


Not Forgetting Who I Was

by slashter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Panic Attacks, Racist Language, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashter/pseuds/slashter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall wakes up in a world where he's brunet, tattooed, and not in One Direction. In fact, no one's in One Direction--it doesn't exist. Determined to find out what's going on and if any of the other boys are as confused as he is, he leaves whatever life he's built so far behind in Ireland and sets off for London, his mind set on reuniting the five of them and reclaiming their spot in music history, no matter what it takes.</p><p>But the boys don't know who he is. The boys don't know anything about their other lives. They've got jobs of their own and goals they've set, and not everyone is ready to drop it all to chase some wayward dream, regardless of how good it may sound.</p><p>So now, for Niall, doing the seemingly impossible's just become a lot more difficult.</p><p>[Or the one where Niall has to bring One Direction back together, even if it means breaking his own heart in the process]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Niall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2wistful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2wistful/gifts).



> UHH...OKAY!!! This is for Big Bang round 3, and I can't believe how long it is...40k is a new record for me. Oh my gosh. I hope you like this even though I'm the worst. lmao
> 
> This fic is based off of [this](http://fineapplepizza.tumblr.com/post/86658147493) post by the lovely [Jen](http://fineapplepizza.tumblr.com), so thank you so much for letting me have the honor of writing a fic for it!!!
> 
> Mucho love to the amazing [Tammy](http://sirental.tumblr.com) for her SPECTACULAR art, which can be found throughout this fic as well as here. Also a huge shoutout to [Tori](http://poppunk1d.tumblr.com) for being such an awesome beta even when I was awful and scrambling to finish this fic. You two are beautiful and I am #blessed
> 
> Finally, thank you so much to the mods for this Big Bang! I've had so much fun participating in this and you did such a great job of organizing this and I (along with many others, I'm sure) are so grateful that all of you work so hard to make sure this happens as smoothly as possible!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:**  
>  I don't own One Direction. I don't even know anyone in One Direction or anyone else mentioned in this story. If I did, I probably wouldn't be posting this. This work is purely a piece of fiction.
> 
> ~Title from Don't Forget Where You Belong by ONE DIRECTION (BC I'M WEAK)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> _[E](http://yourwholelifeisa1dblog.tumblr.com/post/102120493312)verything that you've ever dreamed of,_  
>  _disappearing when you wake up_  
>  _but there's nothing to be afraid of_  
>  _even when the night changes;_  
>  _it will never change me and you..._  
> 

\------

** **

 

**\------**

 

Niall wakes up at what he, at least, thinks is a ridiculously early time. There's some sort of roaring sound rushing past his ears and for a moment he thinks it's just the aftermath of the concert from the night before--Louis isn't the only one to have had ear problems, all the boys have had their fair share of scares. He reaches up and scratches his right ear, feeling nothing strange and sighing as he realizes that he's got to get up now, since he's definitely not falling back asleep anytime soon. He opens his eyes but keeps his focus on his bedsheets, skimming through the events from the night before. 

Niall remembers the show and the moments right after, how Louis had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, how Harry had jumped onto Niall's back and demanded a piggyback ride, how Liam and laughed and how Zayn had smiled so gently, so lovingly at the sight. Niall remembers the butterflies that tore through his stomach at the sight and the immediate guilt that followed as he watched Liam pull Zayn in for a long, intense kiss. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing that part of the memory to fade away, since last night had, no doubt, been one of the best of his life, and he shouldn't let any silly, meaningless feelings get in the way of that. 

 

"Niall!" A voice calls, suddenly, and Niall sits up immediately, blinking in confusion. The most surprising thing of all of this is that it's a _woman's_ voice he hears, and Niall hasn't hooked up with a girl in--well, it's been a while. He tries to think back and see if he'd brought a girl over to his hotel room at some point last night, but right as he's mulling this over, the door to his room is pulled open. 

"Niall!" The voice calls again, and Niall blinks in shock as about eighty different things seem to settle into place all at once. 

First of all, he's not in his hotel room. He's not even in _America_. No, he's far away, thousands of miles, settled in the familiar-smelling sheets of his childhood bedroom in Mullingar. Secondly, it's not just _any_ woman calling out his voice--no, it's his _mother_.

"Ma?" He asks, hesitantly, and Maura rolls her eyes as he stares at her. "I--what--where--"

"Stop playing about, Niall." She says, clicking her tongue. "It's almost nine, you're going to be late. You need to get down to the radio station.”

"I--" Niall starts, but his mom tuts again and walks over to the bed, pulling the sheets down. 

"Get out of bed and get _ready_." She chides, and Niall sputters, jumping out of bed and glancing around.

"Yeah." He says, confused. "Yeah. Um, where am I going again?" He asks, wincing a bit at the blunt question. His mother turns and gives him a dirty look.

"You're not pulling that one on me again, pet." She says, then sets about making his bed. "Now hop in the shower, you smell something awful."

Niall just nods, still a bit unsettled, and speed-walks over to his bathroom. He locks the door, takes a deep breath, and turns to look in the mirror.

And then screams.

 

"Ma!" He cries, yanking open the door and staring at a very annoyed Maura. "Ma, I'm--why am I not blond?"

Maura raises an eyebrow. "Niall, you haven't been blond since you were sixteen."

"I--" Niall starts, but then pauses. Sixteen? Why then?

"Niall." His mother says, then appears in front of him in the doorway. She looks more tired than he remembers, a bit more overworked than she usually does. The ghost of a smile that's always flitting about her face is gone, replaced by a small tinge of exhaustion. "Listen, I know this is still hard for you sometimes--working out here when I know you'd rather still be busking. But we agreed on this, remember?"

Niall is so shocked he can't even speak--just stares at his mom, still flummoxed. He can't think of much more to do than nod dumbly, even though there are a million questions buzzing through his head at the moment. Working out here? In Ireland? While the rest of the boys are in London, she means? And she had to have meant playing concerts instead of busking, right? She always did have a way of under-exaggerating things. But why is Niall in Ireland anyways? And more importantly, when did he get here? When did he ‘agree on this’ at all?

Maura sighs, obviously noticing the flummoxed expression on Niall’s face, then offers him a small smile and places a warm hand on his shoulder. "Get yourself sorted, pet. Get to the station and I'll try and meet you for lunch today, yeah?"

Niall nods again, still idiotically silent, and watches as his mother walks gently out of the room. He turns back to the mirror and pulls off his shirt.

He almost screams again, his shock the only thing that's keeping him quiet at the moment. He runs a hand over his left shoulder, over the dark, fluid lines inked across his skin. A _tattoo_?

It's a bit silly, but it takes that specific oddity--something Niall had never really expected in his lifetime--to make him actually question the validity of his surroundings at the moment. He knows he's in Mullingar, but that's about it. He doesn't know where the other guys are, what happened to them, how he ended up in Ireland, or why he looks like he looks right now. There's a huge part of him that's shocked silent but there's a larger part of him that's approaching all of this with a burning curiosity and he can't help but let himself be led by this intense wonder for what this new world is. He blinks at himself some more, trying to get more used to this image, and thinks about all the information he's gathered from his mom by now.

He’s got to get to the local radio station, for some reason. Probably an interview? Which means the other boys’ll meet him there. But why didn’t they just stay in this house overnight? Niall knows they’d never turn down an invite from his family to stay with them. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the color of it more closely. It doesn’t look like it’s been dyed back to brown, but it could just be enough of a _really_ close color match that Niall can’t tell. And it’s possible he just got super smashed last night--like he usually does when he stops by in Ireland, to be honest--and finally decided to suck it up and get some ink on him. He brushes a thumb over the dark, raised lines. They look cool, a contemporary mashup of lines and circles and shapes that form some kind of deep, illusion-like pattern--but it doesn’t seem like that much of a _Niall_ tattoo, really. Niall always thought that if he’d had to get a drunk tattoo, it would’ve been an embarrassingly large clover somewhere on his person. This...this seems deep, thought-out. Also not red or scabbing or peeling, as he knows new tattoos tend to get, so it can’t have been done recently.

Suddenly a thought enters Niall’s mind, a new idea that seems so preposterous yet seems to explain every occurrence that’s been going on--he’s fucking got amnesia. Niall blinks at himself in the mirror, takes in how less tan he is, how more buff he is, too--he looked _nothing_ like this last night--or the last night that he remembers, at least. It _has_ to have been a few months since that concert he thinks happened twelve or so hours ago. His entire physique is different than he remembers. Maybe it isn’t just today he’s forgotten everything--maybe this happens every day? That’s why his mom looked so harried? Fuck, is Niall in, like, some sort of 50 First Dates-type of situation? Does he wake up every day without knowing where he is or what’s happened to him?

Niall feels himself start to hyperventilate and no, this isn’t good, this isn’t right. If that was true, he’d have post-its everywhere, he _knows_ it, telling him to calm down, reminding him of where things are. The walls of his bathroom are blank, though, even though he’s got shelves of products that he currently uses, nothing like he did when he was younger--sixteen, he reminds himself, as his mother mentioned earlier. He has to have been here for a few months at least, he thinks again. 

He draws his eyes to his own gaze again. He has no idea who he is now or the kind of person he comes off as, so maybe he's--meaner? Tougher? He frowns at himself. Maybe he's still as nice, just with some ink. That could be plausible, right? In any case, he’s going to meet up with the boys soon, and they’ll be sure to fill him in on what’s up and why he’s feeling like this. His heart surges with hope at the thought of seeing them, and he’s instantly placated. They’ve probably supported Niall through this more than anyone, doing interviews like the one he’s headed off to in Ireland, staying close to Niall’s parents so that they can all get through this.

For the first time since he’s woken up, Niall smiles. There’s a loud banging on the door right afterwards, though, and he jumps almost a foot high, landing solidly on his feet as he hears his mother scold him for not showering yet. He takes a quick sniff under his arms and cringes--she was right. He strips down, thankful he doesn't find any more unexpected body modifications, and walks into his shower, turning the water up scalding hot and hoping it'll somehow clear his head up enough for him to actually understand the situation he's gotten himself into. 

 

When he hops downstairs, feeling surprising more limber than usual, his mother is clicking her tongue at him, pushing his wallet and a ring of keys into his hand and a piece of toast into his mouth, shoving him out the door. Niall stands in the garage, a bit confused, before he looks around and spots a black motorcycle in the corner. He approaches it carefully, but it has to be what he rides now, since the remote on the keyring makes it chirp. He steps over it carefully, wondering how his mother let him get on it knowing that he doesn’t remember a thing, but it’s easier than expected getting himself used to it--must be muscle memory--and before long, he’s got a helmet on and he’s revving his way out of the driveway and onto the main roads.

Niall’s been driving around for about ten minutes when he realizes that he doesn’t exactly know where he’s going--he’s just been taking turns when he feels like it, really. He blinks at the red light in front of him and then automatically turns right when it turns to green, almost shocked at himself for acting like this. But then he pulls up in front of a large, grey building with a familiar logo on it--Niall recognizes it as the one of his local radio station--so he apparently made it to where he had to be. Maybe it was another muscle memory kind of thing? Though Niall doesn’t remember coming here in ages, so he had to have been driving from directions from years ago, when he first stopped by to give an interview about being on XFactor. Huh.

 

He parks his bike, a bit shocked at how there’s no bodyguards outside waiting for him, but maybe things are a bit more lax at this time in the morning. Or maybe they’re taking a bit of a hiatus--yeah, that sounds understandable--while Niall gets over this memory-loss thing. 

He takes a deep breath and pushes into the building. It’s a bit hectic inside, as Niall knows it to be whenever One Direction comes in for an interview, so he tries to smile at everyone he sees, letting them know he’s grateful for them putting so much hard work into this. Surprisingly, everyone gives him warm, knowing, comfortable smiles back--not the slightly taken-aback, starstruck, blushing expressions he’s used to. Maybe Niall’s come here more often than he remembers.

“Um,” he says, eventually reaching the front desk. He doesn’t get why no one’s showed up to guide him to the actual studio yet, but maybe it’s just spectacularly busy today.

The girl at the front looks up. “Oh, Niall!” she chirps, casually. Niall blinks at her. He’s never met this girl in his life. “A bit late, innit? No matter, Sean’ll be understanding, I suppose. Better get your butt down there soon, though.”

Niall stays silent for a moment. “Right,” he says, nodding. “Um, where exactly am I going, again?” he asks, hoping the girl knows about his condition. She blinks at him, unamused, but then cracks a small smile and rolls her eyes.

“Down that hall and to the left, you joker,” she comments, shaking her head. “I hate when you make me do that.”

Niall gives her a weak smile. “Thanks,” he says, quickly, then turns and walks where she pointed to, ignoring the curious way she looks at him when he leaves.

 

It’s only when he gets to the studio area that he sees someone jump up and approach him, and finally Niall feels the familiarity of doing these interviews. The girl--young, probably an assistant--ushers him over to the doors.

“You’ve got the agenda for today, right?” she asks, and Niall nods slowly. The girl smirks. “Rough night?”

Niall laughs in response but doesn’t actually say anything until they’re right at the door. “Are the lads already here?” he asks, trying to look around the room and see if he can spot the tops of any of their heads.

“Everyone but you,” the girl confirms, then lets him walk into the room. They’re on the air, so Niall quietly seats himself in one of the chairs in the corner of the room. That assistant girl lied--they other guys aren’t here yet.

“Niall?” a voice says, finally, and Niall looks up to see an older, close-shaven man eye him suspiciously. “All right, there, mate?”

Niall blinks at him then shrugs. The man rolls his eyes and the chubbier, red-haired man next to him laughs. 

“Ready to come sit at your chair? Or do you need a formal invite?”

“Um,” Niall says hesitantly, then stands up and sits down at the chair the first man signaled to. He slips on the headphones in front of him then looks questioningly at the man as he speaks into the microphone in front of him. “Hello?” he says, then winces at how awkward it is.

“You feelin’ alright?” the red-haired guy says, smirking. “You look a bit pale, mate.”

“Just, uh,” Niall starts, then clears his throat, surprised at how strong his brogue’s suddenly become. “A bit scattered at the moment, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, let me re-introduce ourselves, just for your sake,” the first man says, winking at Niall. “And for our listeners out there, too. I’m Sean.”

“I’m Tim,” the red-haired man says. The two of them look at Niall expectantly.

“Oh! Uh, I’m...Niall?” he asks, confused, and Sean groans as Tim starts cracking up again.

“Is this another one of those pranks, Niall?” Sean asks, shaking his head. “You young ‘uns and your jokes. I never understood them. Still can’t.” 

“Well, we can’t all have our balls dropped by now, can we?” Tim teases, looking at Niall, obviously waiting for a reply.

Niall just laughs nervously, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Shouldn’t the other guys be here by now?

Tim blinks at Niall, then frowns at Sean, who shoots Niall a curious look. Sean introduces a song, Problem, by Ariana Grande--Niall remembers that song, though, how has he not forgotten that--and then when they’re off the air, he glares at Niall.

“Listen, mate, comin’ in late is unprofessional enough, you don’t need to be actin’ like a twat on air, alright?”

“I--” Niall stutters, cheeks blazing red from embarrassment. “What the fuck? Am I being pranked right now?” He narrows his eyes at Sean. “What’s your fuckin’ game, mate?”

Sean backs off immediately, blinking at Niall, surprised. Tim looks shocked as well, glancing between the two of them quickly. 

“Niall--” Sean starts, but Niall interrupts him.

“No. Where the fuck are the other guys? That girl in the front said they were here, but they’re obviously not. This isn’t funny, makin’ jokes about me and the lads like that and things like that. We took our time to come down here, to talk to you, and you’re going to be a piece of shite?”

Sean just blinks at him for a moment. “You’re not jokin’ around, are ya?”

“Why would I be--” Niall starts, but shuts his mouth as they go on the air again, Tim stuttering through the introduction of what’s obviously a last-minute second track being played. 

“Um, now, a song by--you lot know them, the biggest boyband in the world--” Niall rolls his eyes. Is this a way of calming him down, of introducing the band? It suddenly hits Niall that maybe he’s doing this interview all by himself. Maybe none of the other boys are going to be stopping by. Shit. “--The Wanted!” Tim finishes, and Niall gapes at him, glancing around the room. What the fuck?

“Okay, now you _are_ fuckin’ with me,” Niall says, once they’re off the air again. “You’re gonna play one of their fucking tracks, now, are ya?”

“You--Niall, are you feeling okay?”

“No!” Niall cries, all of a sudden, and it’s like all the doubt and frustration he’s had at not being able to figure anything out since morning has suddenly built up to a breaking point. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t--” Niall pauses, suddenly, quiet as he actually hears the song they’ve just put on. It sounds somewhat familiar, the lyrics at least, and it takes a second for Niall to realize what song The Wanted are singing.

It’s fucking Stockholm Syndrome. It’s _their_ fucking song coming out of their mouths, and it sounds _nothing_ like it should. Those five knobheads are moaning and groaning through the lines and the chorus, singing it with no real feeling or heart. It just sounds _wrong_. 

And that’s what it takes to get Niall jumping out of his seat, shaking his head as he walks to the door. “I need some air,” he huffs out, shouldering the door open and walking around until he finds an exit sign.

 

Sean must think Niall needs a little time, because he doesn’t come after him until at least fifteen minutes later. He opens the door and looks around, finding Niall sitting down on the pavement, his back against the brick of the building. 

“Here,” Sean says, handing Niall a cup of water, which Niall takes gratefully. He waits till Niall’s finished the drink and is picking at the styrofoam before speaking. “You okay, though?”

Niall sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t--” he starts, wary of how much he can tell the man, but it seems like they’re pretty close, so he guesses he can spill the beans. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m doing. I woke up today and I was literally in a different fucking world. I come from--it’s like I traveled through a wormhole or some shit, this is not what my life is.”

Sean hums and sits down next to him. “What is your life, then?”

Niall laughs. “It’s going to sound like I’m full of shite. But, uh. I’m in a boyband. And _we’re_ the biggest boyband in the world. Not the fuckin’ Wanted, they had to break up. Because of _us_. Because we’re that fuckin’ big and powerful. We’ve got millions of fans and awards and we go on world tours and--” Niall scrubs at his face. “I sound like I’m crazy, but this wasn’t a dream, I swear, it was--it’s my life.”

“I believe you,” Sean says, after a moment of silence. Niall looks over at him, surprised. Sean shrugs. “You’re not the Niall I know. You’re not acting like I’d expect you to. You’re obviously uncomfortable here, at your own damn job, and--”

“Wait, I _work_ here?” Niall asks, then blinks up at the sky, going over the morning’s events. “Fuck, that makes so much sense.”

Sean laughs. “Yeah, it would. You thought you were here for an interview, right?”

“Been on my fair share of radio,” Niall shrugs. “I just--I’m so confused, mate.”

“Look,” Sean says, sighing and standing up. He brushes off his jeans. “Take the rest of the day off. Take the rest of the month off, if you have to. Find out what’s going on, okay? When you feel settled down, ready to talk again or give this another go, then you can come back. You’ll always have a spot here if you want it, Ni.”

The nickname sets Niall’s heart aflame and he takes the hand that Sean’s held out, letting himself be pulled up. “Thanks. But, like, why--why aren’t you freaking out about this? You know I sound like I’ve gone mad. People don’t just wake up in parallel universes, I sound like I nutter.”

“Strange things happen to us all, Niall,” Sean says, giving Niall a knowing look. “If I’d told you of some of the things I’ve seen, some of the things I’ve done, you definitely wouldn’t believe me.” He shrugs. “Guess you’re lucky I’m a bit of a free spirit, for me to believe you. But don’t take it for granted.”

Niall nods. “I won’t.”

“What’s going to be your first plan of action, then?” Sean says, biting his lip. “I’m not sure what people usually do in these situations.”

“I guess--I can look up the people I know,” Niall thinks, immediately visualizing the boys. “Find out what they’re up to, see if I can reconnect with them. See if this might’ve happened to them, too. Try and put me life together like that.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Sean turns to the door. “You don’t have to come back in, it’s a bit of a clusterfuck. But call me soon, okay? Keep me updated.”

“I will,” Niall promises, giving Sean a small smile. “Thank you.”

Sean smiles back. “Anytime.”

 

Niall drives home determined to find some answers, to settle his restless mind. He’s back home in half the time it’d taken him to get to the station, and his mom yelps in surprise when he walks through the door.

“Niall?” she asks, worried. “What’s--”

“Can’t talk now, ma!” Niall cries, bounding up the steps. “Work to do!”

She doesn’t try and follow up, thankfully, and it’s only when Niall gets to his room that he realizes that the usual strain on his knee isn’t acting up like it would after a speedy ascent like that. He tries rolling his trousers up but of course they’re too tight for that; so he just takes them off, running his hands over his unscarred knees.

“Shit,” he mutters, awed. He’d never had knee problems, no knee surgeries either. He looks around his room more carefully than he did earlier in the day--at the books stacked haphazardly on his desk, the faded footie posters tacked onto his wall, and breathes out a sigh, amazed. He's spent so much of his life in this place, has built a whole identity here, but...it's not who he is. It doesn't really feel like him at all. He closes his eyes and thinks. What else could be different? His hair, the tattoo, his knee...and then his eyes open in alarm. He gets up and makes sure his door is closed and locked, then opens up his side drawer, rifling through the drawers of his bedside table until he finds a mostly-full box of condoms and a bottle of lube. Which--that doesn’t say much, really. Then some sort of inspiration strikes and Niall digs around his room furiously, searching until he finds an old Dell laptop somewhat halfway under the bed. It takes ages to power up, but Niall is so thankful there's no password required for entry. He doesn't have prying eyes now, fans who'd do anything to see all his secrets, so there's really no reason for him to try to hide anything from anyone. Plus, he’s not sure exactly what his password would be--it seems like this version of him is so painfully different, so unfamiliar.

He clicks open the web browser and quickly goes to his bookmarks. He’s done the same thing back in his world, a trick for bookmarking a site he doesn’t want people knowing the name of--and, bingo. Niall clicks the porn video he’s got saved and holds his breath, waiting for the page to load. He has a last-minute thought to make sure the volume is off--which it is--just in case his mom’s outside listening, but-- _yes_. 

Niall breathes out a sigh of relief, watching the two men on screen make out. It’s not like he would’ve been grossed out if this version of him had been straight, but it just makes it easier for him to fit in, and he won’t have any awkward explaining to do to anyone. Thank god. He closes the tab and stares at his home page, at his most recently visited sites. There’s Twitter, of course--Niall takes note to look through it later, see what he says and who he follows--Tumblr, which is strange but understandable, Niall supposes, and then--Facebook. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It’s literally got all of Niall’s social history on it, his friends, photos of him in the past, posts he’s made, and--shit. 

 

If there’s no One Direction, then the other boys might not be famous. And if they’re not famous, that means they’d probably have-- _fuck_. Niall clicks over to Facebook quickly, his heart thudding wildly. It's ridiculous how helpful this makes things, and if this didn't exist, Niall has no idea what his next move would be. He types in the first name that comes to mind, the first that would show up as being most socially active on a site like this--Harry Styles--and holds his breath, waiting to see a familiar face pop up in the search results.

He doesn't get any people--he lets out a frustrated breath--but he does see a page for a musician, someone who goes by Harry Styles, working out of London. The photo for the page is the silhouette of a tall, lanky someone in a large-brimmed hat against the sunset, and Niall feels hope surge through him as he clicks open the page.

It's Harry, alright. The person in all the photos Niall clicks through doesn't look completely familiar to him as his own Harry does, the Harry he can read like a book, but he looks close enough to him to grant Niall some relief. There’s a bit of difference in the way he holds himself, the way he stands and looks in the camera, and Niall can only assume that comes from the events that each individual has gone through over the past few years. This Harry looks less lax, tries to look more serious in his poses and intense with his gaze.

He's sure dressed as Harry, though, in a large, open flannel and tight jeans, scuffed boots on his feet. The page says he's got a few thousand fans, which isn't too bad, in Niall's opinion, but it doesn't link to Harry's personal Facebook, which is what he wants to find. Regardless, he does know that this Harry's home is London, which is good enough of a start for him.

He looks up Louis next and finds him easily, surprisingly enough, because of the sheer number of likes they have in common on Facebook. Their music and movie tastes barely differ, and Niall has to hold back a smile as he clicks through Louis' photos. 

He's got hair that's short and soft-looking, his fringe falling into his face, not slicked into a quiff or grown till his neck. His info says he's currently in or around Doncaster, working at a theatre and also a local eatery. He looks just as good as ever, a bit more weight than he has on currently, but still healthy nonetheless. He's not got too much facial hair either--only a small bit of scruff, as far as Niall can tell--and his relationship status is single. That should come as a bit of a surprise to Niall, but he supposes that Eleanor has never really met Louis, really, since she met him through a friend of Harry's anyways, so. Okay.

Zayn isn't hard to find either, a student at the University of London. He’s already finished a major in English and Art--not surprising, the fucking brainiac--and he’s working on his Masters in Art History. His Facebook is a bit private though, and Niall can't see much more than a few of his profile pictures, but it's enough to confirm his identity. He's still got what looks like a good amount of tattoos, though his hair is shorn close to his skull, leaving him with an almost buzzcut sort of look. He still looks beautiful, of course, and Niall's heart skips a beat at his single relationship status as well, though he feels guilty right after, because this Zayn doesn't know him, won't love him, will probably fall in love with Liam if he ever meets the boy.

Speaking of--Niall types in Liam's name quickly, and his profile shows up, even more public than Louis'. Liam really never had been good at figuring out how privacy settings worked. He's got almost everything open to see, and Niall gathers that he still works at the same factory that his father does in Wolverhampton. He’s also listed as single, though his profile says he’s only interested in women, which is--interesting, Niall thinks. And a bit strange.

 

Niall makes sure to follow all the boys--he likes Harry's page as well--and breathes out a sigh, thinking through everything. He's got two boys in London, one working and one studying, one boy in Wolverhampton, and another in Doncaster. He needs to visit them; needs to see them one by one and convince them to listen to him or to just--to trust him and be his friend or _something_. He hopes the information he can provide is enough to make them believe that he knows them, but--what if Harry doesn't have four nipples? What if Zayn has no younger sisters? What if Liam was born with two functioning kidneys? He can’t just try to strike up friendships with them willy-nilly, without them knowing what he’s come from, because if it ever came up after they’d known each other for a while, they might think Niall was just forcing something, which is not the case. He _knows_ they’ll all be easy friends--what they have is organic and one in a million, no doubt about it.

But how can he get them to all get to know each other? It’d be selfish and foolish for Niall to just try to be friends with each of them individually. He misses each of them, of course, but he misses the group dynamic most of all. He wants to hang around and watch a movie with them all, wants to get drunk and sing karaoke with four other voices harmonizing along with his. 

It’s with a sinking stomach that Niall thinks that none of them really have that much in common--different interests, different goals. Harry is still pursuing music, of course, but Zayn is off being an academic, Louis is acting, Liam is living a nine-to-five life. The only thing they have in common--well, _had_ in common, at least where Niall came from, is this dream, this passion for the music, for becoming the best, for making a name for themselves.

And then it hits Niall like a gust of cold wind--goosebumps break out over his arms and he sits up straight, his heart rate steadily increasing. He could fuck this all up--fuck it up beyond belief--but even though the doubt, he's got this nagging feeling in his gut that's telling him that he _has_ to do this, because it feels so right and seems like the only logical solution to the problem that Niall’s now faced with. He has to get them back together, has to make them a thing again, and fuck if he’s not going to try his hardest to make sure it happens.

He’s going to reunite One Direction.

 

The next hour or so is a blur--Niall is bustling around his room, finding clothes, pants, socks, and stuffing them all haphazardly into a suitcase. He’d never be this hasty otherwise, but, as he tells himself, he’s a new Niall now, a different one. A tattooed, brunette troublemaker. Speaking of which--he walks over to the his bathroom, giving himself a good up-down in the mirror. He looks more like he remembers himself to be--with renewed vigor--though his eyes seem a different shade of blue with his dark brown hair, and, if he’s being honest, he doesn't like it. He immediately bends down and rifles through the cupboards, trying to see if he can find any spare hair bleach, anything at all to get him back to blond and feeling somewhat comfortable with himself again.

As luck would have it, he finds an old, almost-expired box of something under his sink, but it looks trustworthy enough to use. Niall's done this for ages, he knows how to work his way around some hair dye.

 

By the time he gets downstairs, Niall's got a shock of blond hair styled up nicely on his head. It's not exactly how Lou can get it but it's good enough, and Niall sighs happily. He almost recognizes himself now.

"Niall?" his mom calls and Niall sighs again, stepping out into the kitchen. He watches his mom stir a cup of tea and add another spoon of sugar, reading the paper that's spread out on the counter. She looks up after a moment, the smile on her face flickering a bit at Niall's new hair but then expanding wider. 

"You look good," she comments, and Niall blushes a bit, sitting down at the table. “Done with all that work?”

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asks, and she looks at him curiously, bringing her cup of tea and then sitting down across from him at the table.

“Aren’t we doing that already?” she smirks, then rests her chin on her hand. “Go on, then. What’s on your mind?”

"I--" Niall starts, then sighs. "This is strange. Really strange."

Maura frowns. "How so?"

“I don’t--” Niall sighs. “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”

“Lately?” Maura asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do you mean today?”

Niall shrugs, offering her a weak smile. “I need to--I have to leave. For a while, from here.”

His mom frowns again, but looks more concerned this time. “Niall, we talked about this. The music thing, I--”

“It’s not about music,” Niall interrupts, then bites his lip. “I just--there’s some friends. In London. I have to go see them, Ma.”

Maura purses her lips. “For what?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Niall starts, then sighs. “But I promise, I wouldn’t be mentioning them if it wasn’t essential. I _have_ to go see them.”

“This is--sudden,” Maura says, obviously disappointed and--annoyed? Maybe? “I’m not sure how to feel about this, to be honest.”

Niall gulps. Did things really get that bad with him and his mom? With him and his music? “Can’t you trust me, Ma?” he asks, his voice quiet, and almost a little bit shaky. He’s never been this nervous before, and he’s _scared_ , because his mom’s never had this attitude towards his songs, towards his passion. She’s always been supportive of his dreams, and this--this is even more unsettling than his own personal changes.

“You’re talking like you don’t remember, Niall,” Maura says, scolding him. “And I don’t ever want to see you in that state again, surrounded by those types of people, doing--involved in--” Maura stops, her voice hitching. “I don’t want you there again.”

“It won’t--” Niall says, his head buzzing with questions. “It won’t be like that. These are different people, _good_ people. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, or--or to put my life in danger. I promise.”

Maura wipes at her eyes and sighs. “You’re a grown man, Niall. I can’t stop you from going where you want to go and I just--I suppose I’m lucky to have you even ask me for permission, or whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“I don’t want you to worry,” Niall admits, honestly. Maura laughs.

“All I do is worry about you,” Maura says quietly, then smiles. “But maybe I don’t need to worry about _this_ you anymore.” She reaches across the table and runs a hand through Niall’s hair, still rough from the bleach, and sighs. “There _is_ something different about you, though. Today.”

“Do you trust me, then?” Niall asks, gently, and watches Maura smile some more, slowly. 

“I always trust you, Niall,” Maura replies, and moves her hand to his, holding it tight. “If this is--if you really believe you need to go back to London, need to meet somebody important, then--then I’m not going to stop you. I _can’t_ stop you.”

“That’s bull,” Niall says, firmly. “You _can_ stop me. Just say no, and I won’t go.” Niall’s heart clenches at the prospect, but he fights himself to stick to his decision. “I won’t go.”

There’s nothing but silence for a moment as the two of them just sit there, hands clasped, looking at each other. Niall hopes his mom can read what’s in his eyes, the plan he has in mind, how much he _needs_ to leave. And she must, because she smiles at him again, patting his hand.

“Go. Just--don't forget where you belong, yeah, love?” Maura says, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Home."

Niall blinks at her, stunned, then laughs a bit nervously. "Yeah. I will. I won't--won't forget.” He takes a deep breath and smiles, a grateful warmth blossoming from his heart. “Home."

 

\------

 


	2. Harry

\------

** **

 

**\------**

 

Niall reaches London the next afternoon, having left on a train fairly early that morning. He steps out onto the platform, backpack on his back, guitar case over his shoulder, suitcase in his other hand. He looks around, almost shocked at how everyone just walks past him, doesn't give him a second glance, and realizes that, as vain as it sounds, he really misses all the attention. Sure, the claustrophobia or panic attacks aren't fun, but he wants people screaming his name, asking for autographs and pictures. He wants to be a star again, he thinks stubbornly, pouting.

He walks out of the train station and onto the street, looking around confusedly. London doesn't seem to have changed much but he's still a bit confused about where he is exactly. He spies a map of the tube up on the side of a wall and reads through it until he sees where he is and where he has to go. It's not too long of a ride to Harry's part of town, where he hopes he can catch the boy. His Facebook page seemed to hint that he frequents a certain bar and if Niall can find him there, well…it'll make his job a lot easier.

 

That all turns out to be easier said than done, though, and Niall plops down in a cafe, exhausted, after a few hours of running all over London. His arms hurt from holding his bags and his ego hurts a bit too, refusing to believe that he could suck this much at this. He's supposed to know these boys better than himself and this is just too disheartening.

He groans and leans down, pressing his head to his folded arms, before he hears a voice pipe up next to him.

"Um, you play?" someone says, and Niall looks up to see a young barista looking at him expectantly.

"Uh. Yes." Niall says, clearing his throat. "Why? Need lessons?"

"No, but. Just a tip," the girl leans in and says, mock-whispering. "It's the perfect time to busk right now. We get a lot of foot traffic and you can make a pretty penny."

"Oh," Niall says, because busking is something he hasn't done in a long time, and especially not for money. But right now, it seems like the only reasonable thing to do, and maybe it'll be enough for him to be able to stay at a cheap motel tonight. He knows he's probably got some cash to spend, but he feels weird doing that, as if he's dipping into the other Niall's money, and he'd rather earn his own keep.

Niall's outside in the next five minutes, his luggage waiting by the door inside the cafe while he sits on the ledge outdoors, his guitar case folded open and ready for change. He remembers something he'd read a few years below and tosses in a few notes himself, hoping it'll influence others to do the same. 

 

He plays for a few minutes, skimming through a few songs, wondering if it's even legal to play the songs they'd copyrighted as One Direction. He decides to bite the bullet and just play Stockholm Syndrome itself, but the version he knows, because it seems to be a well-known song anyways and hopefully he'll get some attention for it. 

It turns out the barista is right, and people are really walking past now, some even pausing for a moment, waiting to see what Niall has to offer. Fuck it. He'll give them a show.

He starts off singing the song slow, hoping to give it a more haunting tune acoustically, trying to match Zayn's cool voice. Before long he's belting out the chorus easily, fingers moving across his guitar in a practiced manner. He's throwing in a few extra notes here and there to impress the crowd and he does exactly that, the people around him applauding for him as he finishes, some throwing bills and change into his case. He sighs and smiles, plucking at the strings of his guitar as he stares into the sky. It's weird, but if he'd woken up to this Niall's life and he'd been just a homeless man, but at least one who sang for a living like this, making money off of busking, he thinks he'd be happier than he was back in Mullingar. Though, he supposes, something must have really fucked up for his mom to be so insistent that he not return to London.

"Excuse me?" A voice then says, pretty softly, and Niall almost misses it till someone clears their throat. He blinks in surprise and brings his gaze down a bit to look into the eyes of a very bemused bystander.

 

Harry. It's fucking Harry. In the actual flesh. Niall feels a grin break out onto his face and he stands up, ready to pull the boy into a hug.

"Do I know you?" Harry asks then, and Niall freezes. He feels his smile drop and his heart pick up its pace. Harry doesn't know him? Like, sure, Niall had been hoping the boys would have all switched bodies into this universe too, but the realization hits him hard and he figures out almost immediately that he'd been thinking about this whole situation as if the boys didn't know him, so this, this isn't too much of a surprise, actually.

"Um. No, I don't think so?" Niall replies, still standing awkwardly, holding his guitar. Harry bites his lip.

"We haven't like…hooked up or something, have we?" he asks, and Niall blushes.

"I--no, I'm not even from here, I'm--"

"Irish," Harry finishes, then nods in understanding. "Can I ask you a question, though?"

Niall nods, so Harry bites his lip again and crosses his arms. "If you're not from here, and we've never met, then how come you know the original lyrics to Stockholm Syndrome?"

Niall pauses again. "Um," he starts, unsure of how to explain everything to Harry.

"Because I didn't sell this version. I rewrote the song to sell it. What you sang is what I have in my journal, and I've never shown those lyrics to _anyone_."

"Right. Um. Can I buy you a cup of coffee, Harry?" Niall asks, and Harry raises his eyebrows.

"How do you know my name? How do you know my name and my lyrics?" He sounds panicked now, taking a few steps back. Shit. "Are you some kind of stalker or something, man, because--"

"No!" Niall cries, then cringes and steps back himself. "No, Harry, I--just let me explain this to you, yeah? One coffee. I'll tell you what's going on then."

Harry looks at him suspiciously but nods nonetheless. "Okay. _One_ coffee. And at the end of this we're either going to be friends or I'm going to call the police."

Niall sighs defeatedly. 

 

Once they've sat down and ordered their drinks, Niall catches Harry giving him a once-over.

"So?" he asks, obviously expecting answers. Niall clears his throat.

"Have you ever heard of, like, parallel universes and shit?" he asks, and Harry gives him an annoyed look.

"You're not making a very good first impression here."

"No, no, I'm serious. Like. Look. My name's Niall. Niall Horan. I'm 21 and I'm from Mullingar, Ireland. I work at a radio station and I live with my mom but that's--that's not the life I know."

"Okay…" Harry says, and it actually looks like he's making an effort to understand, so that comforts Niall a bit.

"The life I know is…it's amazing. I'm touring the world with my four best friends, playing music that I love to millions of screaming fans, living in luxury--"

"That's the life we all want to know, isn't it, mate?" Harry asks, as the waitress brings over their drinks. He sips at his coffee then makes a face. "Not sweet enough."

"Four sugars, yeah? And three creams?" 

"How--"

"You rarely drink coffee. I suspect you're doing it right now because you want to make a good impression on me. But I know you wanted water, you should've just ordered a water. They can't make this coffee the way you like your coffee without pouring a whole bottle of vanilla syrup into it, Haz," Niall says, and the nickname slips out so easily. Harry's staring at him like he's grown a second head. Niall sighs. He might as well continue.

"You have an older sister named Gemma," Niall says, sipping at his own drink. "And your mum's name is Anne. She must still be married to Robin, yeah? But your birth father’s name is Des. And you're from Holmes Chapel, you worked in a bakery, you played in a band called White Eskimo, and you won battle of the bands. You wrote Stockholm Syndrome about this girl who you said you basically shagged for almost twelve hours straight." Niall nods at Harry, picking up his cup again. "Oh, and you have four nipples. At least."

Harry watches Niall carefully for a few minutes, blinking all the while, before finally speaking up.

"That's all right. You got that all completely right."

"Yeah. Because I know you."

"Are you, like, trying to prove that you're my biggest fan? Because I believe you now."

Niall rolls his eyes. "No. I'm trying to prove that in another universe, where _I_ come from, we're practically brothers. And international superstars."

"Another universe."

"I know it's a bit to wrap your head around, Harry--"

"Yeah, just a bit." 

"What do you want me to do? What do I have to say to make you believe me?"

"Tell me something no one would know about me."

Niall snorts. "Right. Uh, your cat's name is Dusty."

"That's googlable."

"Of course. Um," Niall racks his brain, searching for things to say. He knows Harry's on the brink of leaving, and it's only that that makes him pull out a memory he swore that he'd never bring up again.

"Well?" Harry asks expectedly, and Niall groans.

"You like. You have this--toy. This sex toy. It's called Alfred," Niall starts, and watches Harry blush a deep red and stare at Niall, shocked, as Niall keeps talking. "You've had him since you were 15. You bought him as a dare but you use him. Pretty regularly, actually."

"I--" Harry starts, but seems unable to continue. Niall raises his eyebrows, thankful that he's apparently captured the attention of Harry. He clears his throat.

"I'm not some nutter, Harry. I know you. And I know what you want from life, who you want to be, the things that you're capable of. You're one of my best friends, mate, at least where _I_ come from, and I came here straight from Mullingar because I believe in you--in _us_. I want us to have what I know we can have."

Harry hasn't spoken a word yet, now just looking down at his palms, folded quietly together. He sighs, though, and slowly looks up at Niall when Niall's done speaking.

"You said we were, like, famous? Proper famous? With fans and everything?"

"Hundreds of thousands of them, Haz." Niall assures him, and a small smile shows up on Harry's face.

"What were we called?"

"One Direction."

"Not too shabby."

"I hope you think so. You're the one that came up with it."

At that, Harry breaks out into a full smile, and Niall can't help but mimic his expression. The two of them sit in comfortable silence for a few more minutes as Niall sips at his coffee.

"So, you want to. Like. Make us famous? In this universe, or whatever?"

Niall shrugs. "I know we can do it. I know we have the talent and the capability and the prospective audience. I just need to get some stuff together, y'know?"

Harry frowns. "What kind of stuff?" he asks, and Niall sighs.

"I haven't really--remember how I mentioned my four best friends? In the band?"

"I'm assuming I'm one of them?" Harry asks, and Niall nods. 

"Yeah. But there's three other guys, and I still have to talk to them and explain the whole situation to everyone. I don't even know how they're going to react to all this. I came to you first because, I guess, I must have subconsciously thought that you, the musician, would be the most open to hearing about this, y'know?"

Harry purses his lips in thought, plucking at the skin a bit, and the familiar action sparks a feeling of comfort low in Niall's belly. 

"I guess your line of thought seemed reasonable. I am probably the one who'd be ready to pack up and do something crazy if it meant finally getting a record deal or something."

Niall grins. "Yeah. And now I've got to find the others and let them know what's going on."

Harry nods in approval, but bites his lip and cocks his head right afterwards. "But what if--and this is, I guess, the worst case scenario--what if one of the other boys doesn't want to do this? Or what if none of them do? From what you said it seemed like I'm the only one who's still, like, pursuing music, yeah?"

"I--like, I dunno." Niall replies, and it's a pretty pathetic answer. He should've thought through all of this. "All of us, us five, we work so _well_ together, as a fivesome, and like--we've always talked about how the group wouldn't even be the same if one of us wasn't in it. I don't know how we could do this without the five of us."

"So what you're saying is," Harry starts, brow furrowed, "that you wouldn't even want to give this a try if just four of us did it? Or three?"

Niall shrugs. "It has to be us five."

"But don't you think that, like, you and I could do something?" Harry asks, and Niall blinks at him, dumbstruck. "You play guitar, I do too, we both obviously love music, and you seem like you've got a plan, you've got contacts. You can go to a label, tell them facts like you told me, drop some names, and get us a contract, yeah? And then we could have what you said we had? Fame, fans, all of it?" Harry looks excited now, his eyes twinkling like this is the best idea he's ever come up with, and Niall feels a solid lump of fear and disappointment settle in his gut.

"Harry, I'm not-- _no_." He says, watching Harry lean back in his chair, disappointed. "This is about the five of us, about One Direction. I want my best friends back, I want us on the stage _together_ , not just--not just you and me. This is so much more than just that, so much more than just us."

Harry snorts, and it's caustic and unexpected and just slices through the thick curtain of hope and friendship that Niall had just draped the two of them in his mind. 

"You think anyone else is just going to drop what they're doing and be ready to leave with you for this?" Harry says, and Niall's heart sinks. "You're lucky that even one of the people you're looking for is in this position," he adds, gesturing to himself. "Everyone else probably has a job, has friends, has a life they're happy with. They're not just going to be up and ready to go because you know their fucking National Insurance number."

Harry's tone is bitter and meant to hurt, Niall knows it, and he can't help the few tears that automatically spring up in the corners of his eyes. Harry seems to notice and he hesitates for a second, before sighing and shaking his head, scrubbing his palms up and down his face.

"Look, mate, I'm sorry. This just seems--this is like, too good to be true. You're an opportunity I've been looking for for ages and it just sucks that you need three other guys, people I've never even met, who I don't even know if I'll get along with, to validate my talents and ability to succeed."

"It's not about that, Harry, it's about--"

"Friendship or whatever, I know," Harry says, raising his eyebrows and wiggling his fingers sarcastically. "But I can do this. I have what it takes to help you. I don't know why we need the other three."

"I have," Niall starts, taking a deep breath and willing himself not to cry at this sudden change of Harry's character, such a dramatic twist from the kind-hearted Harry he knows, "absolutely no doubt that you and I can go to the top. We'll fit together great. I'm one hundred percent sure of it. But I know--for a _fact_ \--that when you meet these other three boys, when you get to know them, you will be shocked that you ever thought you lived a happy life without them. Guaranteed."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it." Harry says, chewing his bottom lip. 

"I know what you can do, Harry. I know the heart you have and your drive and how great of a performer you are. You've got nothing to prove to me." Niall says, and watches as Harry meets his gaze. "But I don't--I _can't_ \--do this without the other guys. And if you and I alone somehow did make it as big as One Direction did, I know that I'd miss them every single day I was out on stage, because the place that they belong is right next to me. Next to _us_."

Harry gives him a weary look and it's like all of a sudden Niall understands why he'd been so eager to get Niall's help. This Harry hasn't had such opportunities given to him at such a young age. He's probably had to live a tough life by himself a few years, had to scrounge for gigs and cash and any chances he could get. Niall must have seemed like a fucking godsend to him. He'd be lying if he said that he wouldn't have reacted to this news the same way as Harry had if they'd been in each other's positions.

"Hey," Niall says, reaching his hand out on the table. Harry eyes it for a moment but slowly fits his own palm inside Niall's. Niall squeezes his hand gratefully. "I promise--I _promise_ , Haz--that we will make it. That you will hear people screaming your name, singing your songs, asking for your autograph everywhere you go. It might take some time and some hard work and even a fucking miracle here and there but I'm not leading you on. I want this as much as you do. I miss it like nothing else. It's a fucking bitch, it is, a drug, and I've been hooked on it for years now and all I want is that feeling back. And we're going to get it. We're going to get there."

Harry stares at him for a long time before nodding slowly and gently squeezing Niall's hand back. He gives him a small smile then sighs. "I believe you. I don't know why I do and I don't know why I'm trusting you but I can't help it, and I guess I shouldn't fight it."

Niall grins and Harry chuckles. They don't do much else until a waitress comes over to clean their table, eyeing their clasped hands excitedly.

"I love that song you sang out there," she says, softly.

"Thanks," Niall and Harry say, at the same time, smiling up at her and then looking at each other, amused. The girl looks more confused, looking between the two of them curiously before turning away quickly and walking back to the till. 

"So," Harry starts, motioning to Niall's bags. "You got a place to stay yet?"

Niall makes a face. "Nah. But it looks like I made a fair bit busking today, so I was just gonna try and find a cheap motel to stay at."

"Nonsense!" Harry says, dramatically, then stands up, so Niall does the same. "Any best friend of mine from another universe is a best friend of mine too. I mean--fuck, you know what I mean. You, my dear, can sleep on the wonderful sofa at hotel Styles." Harry flashes him a smile. "For a small cut of your earnings, of course. I always charge a pretty penny to anyone who wants to play my music. It's how I make a living."

Niall laughs. "Of course, mate. It's all yours."

 

Niall wakes up the next morning wrapped up tight in a surprisingly comfortable worn-out blanket on Harry's couch. He blinks his eyes open slowly, letting them adjust to the off-white ceiling, trying to recollect all of the past day's events. So he'd met Harry, explained everything to him, found out that he's not 100% who Niall is used to, but…he's pretty sure the same heart is still in there. 

"One down, three to go," he mumbles, sighing and rolling himself out of the cocoon he's in. He sits up and scrubs at his hair, which is still newly-bleached enough that it's stiff and sticking out in all directions.

"What did you say?" A voice calls, and Harry sticks his head out of the small kitchen. Niall's surprised he didn't even hear the noises coming from there, and he sniffs the air and can make out the various smells of eggs, bacon, and coffee. 

"Um. Just talking to myself," Niall says, then smiles. "How's your morning?"

"Not bad," Harry replies, then cocks his head. "You look like a hedgehog."

"Brilliant," Niall answers, then combs his fingers through his still-stiff, newly-dyed hair. "I think I'm going to try to find Zayn today."

"Who's Zayn?" Harry asks, voice a bit more echo-y now that he's receded back into the kitchen. "Is he another one of our quote-unquote best friends?"

Niall walks over to where Harry is, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Zayn Malik. You wouldn't really happen to know him, would you?"

Harry turns and gives Niall a long, curious look, before shrugging. "Never heard of him before. But we might know each other. London's, like…quite big, y'know?"

Niall blinks at him, then smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Um, would you mind if I kept my stuff here for the day? I'll be back probably only later tonight, so--"

"Yeah, of course, here--" Harry hands Niall his phone. "Put your number in and take mine too. Text me when you need me, I'm rarely more than a few kilometers away from this place."

Niall adds his number in quickly, not bothering to take Harry's number since he recognizes this phone and has had all the boys' numbers memorized by heart for years. He puts Harry's phone on the table, walking towards the bathroom. "Cheers. I'll just wash up and then head out, okay?"

"Niall?" Harry calls, walking out of the kitchen. He stands there, hands on his hips, pouting. "You really do know me well, don't you?"

"Um," Niall starts. "Yes? Why?"

Harry sighs petulantly. "Because I've been standing here starkers for ages and you haven't even noticed. Or reacted."

Niall's eyes widen, glancing down and then back up Harry's body. He grins wide. "Yeah, it's--it's not too uncommon among us. Usually when I see you in the mornings we're both just in our pants--or less. This isn't too unusual a sight for me."

"Damn." Harry combs a hand through his hair. "It's my favorite part of meeting new people."

"What, being naked around them?"

"Duh. And watching how they react. But you didn't at all."

Niall snorts. "The first time, yeah, it was a surprise. But the million times after that make it kind of lose its edge."

"What's the fun of making new friends if you can't shock 'em a little?" Harry says, shaking his head and flipping over some eggs in a pan. Niall gives him a small smile.

"Harry, you and I," Niall starts, shaking his head fondly. "We're not new friends at all."

Harry looks at him for a few seconds, eyes flitting across Niall's face, then offers a smile back. "Yeah, I guess." He turns back to the stove. "Now hurry up and get ready, breakfast's almost done."

 

\------


	3. Zayn

\------

** **

 

**\------**

 

By the time Niall leaves the apartment, it's closer to noon and his stomach is almost as full as his head. He can't stop thinking about Zayn, where he might be, who he could be with, if he'd somehow recognize Niall. He wonders if Zayn will find him cute or attractive, if he'd be into Niall for just one second the way that Niall's been into him for the past three years. But no, Liam. Liam still exists, Liam is Zayn's one and only, Niall _knows_ that, even if it’s still tearing his heart apart.

Niall's on the campus of the uni before he realizes it--it's not strange territory, he's been here once or twice just to look over the place, sometimes with the boys in tow, sometimes late at night to stop by and liven up a random party at someone's flat. He wonders where to start his search--will he even be allowed to ask for Zayn? 

He walks into the first university building he sees, and it just so happens to be one of the administrative buildings, to Niall's great luck. When he approaches the front desk, a pretty young redheaded girl smiles up at him.

"Afternoon. How can I help you?" She asks, a welcoming smile on her face. "Here to transfer? Or meet a counselor?"

"Actually," Niall starts, thickening his accent and leaning forward onto his arms, hoping that the girl might have something for young, blond, Irish men. "I'm lookin' for information for a student ya might have 'ere."

The girl's eyes widen as she hears his voice and she clears her throat, flashing him a bright smile. "Um, we don't really give out information like this--"

"I get that, miss, and I truly understand," Niall continues, smiling back at her. "But the lad's a good mate of mine, from back when we were young 'uns, and I've just come all the way o'er from Ireland to hopefully reconnect, y'know, and I've--well, I'll hate to have wasted all this time and money for nothin'."

He watches the girl smile even more and winces internally at how fake he sounds--do people really think the Irish speak with this intense of an accent? Regardless, the girl blushes and turns to her computer. 

"Let me see what I can find out for you. Do you have his name?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's Zayn Malik."

"Zayn?"

"Yeah, spelled Z-A--" Niall pauses. Fuck. Did Zayn ever change the way his name was spelled? His Facebook existed under the new spelling, but he must have signed up for uni under his original spelling. Niall clears his throat. "Sorry, love. Got a bit choked up there. Z-A-I-N. Yeah."

The girl mutters the letters under her breath, as if a foreign spelling is _so_ hard for her to comprehend, and then gives him a small cheer of victory. 

"Found him! Masters in English, yeah? One second." She holds a finger up and reaches underneath the desk, pulling out a piece of paper. "Here's his on-campus details. It's a lot, but you don't look the sort to beat anyone up."

"I swear on me mam's soul, he's a good friend of mine." Niall says, then bites his lip. It's not _technically_ a lie. He takes the paper. "Bless your heart, love."

"It's Ruby. My name's Ruby." the girl chirps, and Niall smirks back at her.

"Of course it is."

"I was--oh, fuck it. Here." Ruby slides a piece of paper over to Niall. "For you." She winks, and Niall opens the paper, staring down at her phone number, signed off with a few x's and o's. 

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Thanks, love." Niall smiles and turns to leave, walking out the door. 

"Wait, I--what's your name?" Ruby calls from the desk, jumping up, and Niall blinks at her before smiling again.

"Harry," he blurts out, and gives her a quick salute, rushing out the door before she can respond.

 

Finding Zayn's flat is pretty easy--he lives fairly close to campus and before Niall knows it, he's at his door, paper clutched in his hand and body thrumming with excitement. He's never able to be apart from any of the boys for too long, but Zayn--Zayn is something different, always has been. Niall's putty in Zayn's hands, will do anything and everything for the boy, and he's sure Zayn knows it. He finally draws together the courage to knock at Zayn's door, three sharp raps, and waits in silence with bated breath. 

The door opens slowly and then there's Zayn, right in front of Niall's eyes again. He has to fight the urge to run into Zayn's arms and wrap him up in a bone-crushing hug and Zayn looks him up and down before a slow smile appears on his face. Niall's stomach twists in excitement--does Zayn recognize him? Is he not alone in this? Before Niall can help it, he's grinning right back.

"How can I help you, mate?" Zayn asks, his voice as smooth as ever. He pushes his hair back and it's then that Niall realizes how long his hair is, how different he looks from his Facebook pictures. His hair is still buzzed close at the sides, but long and thick and shiny on the top of his head. Maybe he just hasn't updated them in a while--that sounds like Zayn, to be honest.

"Um. I, uh--" Niall stammers, his cheeks flushing once he realizes that he's as nervous around Zayn as ever. Zayn doesn't mention it, though, just raises an eyebrow as he ties his hair back into a topknot and lets Niall gather himself together, as if he's used to this, to people losing their cool around him. Wanker.

"I need to talk to you." Niall says, finally, and Zayn's brow furrows.

"Why? What's going on? Who sent you?" He says, his tone suddenly sharp and suspicious, and Niall automatically takes a step back.

"Whoa, no, mate, this isn't--no, I have. I need to talk to you about something important, just, like, to tell you something. Important."

Zayn narrows his eyes. "I'm not giving you any money, mate, sorry. We're all on a budget here."

"No, I swear, this is--"

"What? A warning? A threat? Fuck off, bro, I get enough of those in a week. I don't need one coming from you."

Niall stands there, absolutely floored, watches how Zayn continues staring him down, his fists clenched and shoulders squared.

"Zayn--" he starts, but Zayn interrupts him again.

"How do you know my name?" he says, then pokes his head out into the hallway, looking left and right, before pulling Niall into his flat by the front of his shirt. He drags Niall through what looks like the living room before dropping him, _hard_ , onto a chair at a dining table.

"I want names. I want you to tell me who's paying you to do this and what sick organization you're a part of. I'm tired of all these racist fucking messages and I want them to stop, you hear?"

Niall blinks up at Zayn. "Messages…?" he asks, his voice trailing off as it all falls into place. _Oh_.

"Don't play dumb, blondie." Zayn snaps, then crosses his arms in front of him. Fuck. This is not how Niall imagined this going.

"I'm not--"

"I don't want to hear any excuses you might pull out of your arse, so--"

"Listen, mate. I can't give you an explanation if you won't let me explain." Niall finally says, sternly, and that shuts Zayn up. He looks at Niall, his gaze lingering, then pulls a chair up so it's facing Niall. He plops down onto it.

"Okay, then. Explain," he says, gesturing to the air with his hand. Niall takes a deep breath.

 

"My name is Niall Horan. I'm 21 and I'm from Mullingar, Ireland." 

Zayn nods in understanding. He opens his mouth to repeat what he'd said to Harry the previous day but it seems recycled, canned, not genuine enough. He knows Zayn, knows Zayn won't be one to be bought by spinning tales of dreams and fame like Harry was. Zayn wants facts, wants to be impressed. Niall clears his throat. 

"I'm, um--I've got to be honest with you. I can't give you the shpiel I planned."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "What, trying to find a good reason for being a racist dick?"

Niall shakes his head. "I'm not--I--listen, I came here to find you. All the way from Ireland, okay? I just--I know you, know the kind of guy you are, and I know you're not going to believe what I'm going to tell you, so I'm trying to figure out the best way possible to introduce this story to you without you thinking that I'm a complete nutter."

Zayn snorts. "You _know_ me? Know what I face every day? Know the insults that get hurled at me, know how it hurts to step outside some days? You really know me?" he finishes, face set in stone. Niall bites his lip.

"Of course not, Zayn. But I've seen what you've had to face, and I've been there for you to rely on. And I'm here now for that too, if you need it."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? 'Been there' for me?" Zayn asks, using air quotes. "I've never even met you before."

And Niall knows that, is very aware of that incredibly obvious fact by now, but it still stings, a solid punch to the gut. Regardless, it seems like a good enough segue for his speech.

"Yeah, but," Niall starts, shrugging. "I've met you before. I've known you for the last three years, and it's been the best three years of my life. I've traveled with you and laughed with you and cried with you and…you're one of my best friends, Zayn."

"Alright, that's it. I'm calling the fucking police. You're crazy," Zayn announces, slapping his thighs in confirmation and standing up, moving to wherever his phone must be.

"Zayn Javaad Malik," Niall starts, knowing this is a bit of a stretch, almost cliché, but he's got to give it a try anyways. Zayn spins around and stares at Niall, shocked. "Born January 12th, 1993. Son of Yaser and Trisha Malik. You have three sisters and I could list all their names too, if you wanted. Full names. With birthdays and everything.”

"Where did you learn all that? Where did you get my information?"

Niall shakes his head again. "I didn't _get_ it from anyone, I _know_ it. Because I'm your friend. Your best friend."

"My best friend," Zayn repeats, incredulous.

"Yes," Niall says. "Just not from this universe."

"Not from this-- _what_?" 

"There's a different universe, yeah? A parallel one to this, where I'm in a boyband called One Direction. It's huge, we've taken the world by storm, and you're one of the guys in said band with me. We're immensely popular and we've got loads of screaming fans and we've won a shitton of awards--"

"I thought you were trying to convince me that you _weren't_ crazy."

"How else would I have known all that stuff about you?"

"I dunno, a phonebook?" Zayn asks. "Stalking me? I'm sure you could've asked someone I know."

Niall sighs. "How can I prove to you that I know you? That I _really_ know you?"

Zayn stares at Niall for a while before speaking. "Tell me something I would never have told anyone else."

“Fine. Um,” Niall pauses, thinking. “Your name is legally spelled with an ‘i’, but you spell it with a ‘y’ whenever you can. You once tried to get a tattoo when you were thirteen but you got caught and you had to bribe your friends so they wouldn’t tell your parents. You had to stand on a brick for your first kiss because you were shorter than the girl you were trying to kiss, and,” Niall waits, watching Zayn’s confused and disbelieving expression, hoping with all his heart that what he’s about to say isn’t something that has changed in this world, “you like boys _and_ girls. Your second kiss was with a boy at a stranger’s party and you cried the entire night when you got home because you didn’t know what those feelings meant. You told me that your mom knows and Doniya does too but I’m not sure if you’ve told anyone here because, like I said, in this world, you--we’re not friends.”

Niall takes a deep inhale, his heart pounding rapidly as he watches Zayn’s defenses crumble in front of his eyes. He can see the moment Zayn finally considers believing what he’s been saying, the words that’ve been tumbling out of Niall’s mouth too true to be just coincidence, too secret to be researched.

“Holy shit,” Zayn says, and Niall nods and shrugs. “Holy _shit_. You--”

“I’m not lying,” Niall finishes. “And I’m not making this shit up. And I’m here to ask you a question and to see if you’re willing to work with me and recreate what I know we can have.”

“And what is that?” Zayn asks, plopping back into his chair. He pushes the wisps of his hair off his forehead where they'd slipped out of the small ponytail he'd had it in, but he looks exhausted now, weighed down with the heavy realization of Niall’s existence. He still looks unbearably cute, though. Fuck him.

Niall sighs. “I’m trying to get One Direction together. Here. I’ve already talked to another one of the guys--his name’s Harry--and he’s ready to be a part of this. But it isn’t going to work if only two of us are willing to do this. It has to be all of us.”

Zayn’s quiet for a minute and then raises his eyebrow. “So...you want me to drop out of school? And come try to start a band with you and four other strangers that may or may not fail?”

“We won’t fail,” Niall says, a bit stubbornly, but he’s tired of people not having faith in them. They’re going to succeed, damnit.

“Right,” Zayn says, slapping the tops of his thighs with his hands again and standing up. “Well, as nice as it was to meet you, I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I--” Niall starts, floored. “You don’t want to do this? You don’t want to even _try_?”

“Look, mate, I’m all for following your dreams and shit, but this is beyond a longshot. I need some security in all of this, okay. You’ve got two other blokes you haven’t even discussed this with and you want me to be in on this and okay with all of it?” Zayn says, gesturing wildly. He looks more stressed than annoyed, though, probably still having trouble comprehending the situation.

“Well, what if--” Niall starts, then pauses, biting his lip. “What if I got you some security? What if I got every other guy to say yes?”

Zayn snorts. “You really think you can do that?”

“I can guarantee it. So I want to know, if I can get everyone else in the group ready to do this, will you join us?” Niall asks, his heart in his throat, practically. He’s so nervous about Zayn’s answer, because he--well, _they_ \--can’t do it without him. They need Zayn to ground them and teach them about everything and help them all relax.

Zayn takes his own sweet time responding, giving Niall a long, considering look before answering. “Okay,” he says, finally. “But it needs to be soon, within the next couple weeks. I don’t have much time to ask my professors for a break before things get busy for me with my classes.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Niall says, jumping up and instinctively going in for a hug. He catches himself a bit too late, backing off awkwardly and blushing at Zayn’s amused expression. “Shit, sorry.”

Zayn sticks out his hand in reply, and Niall shakes it easily, smiling at him until Zayn’s lips twitch up at the corners.

“You’re not going to regret this, Zayn.”

“You said--Niall, right?” Zayn asks, and Niall nods. “Look. I don’t think this is going to work out but this is some freaky science-fiction shit and stuff like this must happen for a reason. And you seem dedicated and all that and for some reason I want to trust you and I don’t think this is some elaborate hoax. So I’m giving you a chance, even though I think this is going to crash and burn.”

“Thanks for having so much faith in me,” Niall deadpans, as Zayn walks him to the door. To his surprise, Zayn grins.

“Prove me wrong, Niall,” he says, and Niall can do nothing but nod and wave goodbye at Zayn before he closes the door. He stands there in the hallway, just staring at it, for another five minutes before he can get himself to walk down the stairs and out of the building.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

 

\------


	4. Louis

\------

 

 

\------ 

 

Niall reaches Harry’s place later that night, exhausted but relieved.

“He said yes?” Harry asks, as soon as Niall walks through the door. He’s seated on Niall’s makeshift bed, a plate of food in front of him and something noisy playing on the telly. Niall sighs.

“He said he’ll do it but only if the other two do it too.” 

Harry frowns. “What the fuck?”

“Look,” Niall says, trying not to sound overly defensive about Zayn’s actions--though he’s probably failing, “I know Zayn. The main reason he auditioned in the first place was just because he wanted someone to tell him he could sing. The whole fame, money, screaming fans side of it was never one he was really looking for or even anticipating. It was a great plus for him, of course, but--well, his reasons for doing this were different from all of us. We all kind of wanted to be on stage and have the spotlight on us but Zayn was looking for confidence and acceptance, mostly. And I respect that.” Niall plops down next to Harry on the sofa. “To be honest, if he’d agreed from the get-go, I would’ve been a bit surprised.”

Harry pouts. “Whatever. Sounds like a bit of a dud. You sure we’re friends?”

Niall smirks. “He ate a candy thong off of you once. On stage. In front of thousands of teenage girls.”

Harry looks surprised but pleasantly so, his expression easing into a smug one. “Of course he did. ‘M not too shocked. I wouldn’t be able to resist myself either.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “ _Please_. Don’t flatter yourself. You tried your hardest to start something with every one of us but it never worked out at all.”

“Damn, tough crowd.”

“More like fumbling, awkward, Harry,” Niall replies. “You seem like a charmer to the rest of the world, you’re arguably the most well-known out of all of us, but we all know what a dolt you are, so.” 

Harry doesn’t reply for a second, and Niall tears his eyes away from the show that’s playing to look at him. He looks suspicious for a bit, then cautious, and then excited.

“I’m--” he starts, and Niall can almost feel how fast his heart is thudding. “I’m the most well-known?”

It takes Niall a second but he has to remind himself how much this Harry is unaware of the love he gets, the followers he has, the people that adore him. Niall smiles. “The most popular, too. All you had to do was get photographed with a girl to start relationship rumors. None of us even came close to you.”

Harry beams, absolutely delighted, and jumps forward, smacking a wet kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Brilliant,” he says, eyes shining. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Niall pushes him off playfully and laughs, rubbing at his face. “You’re just as much a of a sap as I remember, at least.”

“Okay, enough chit-chat.” Harry says, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. “I’m more determined than ever to get this show on the road--” he pauses, “--literally.” He grins. “Who else is left to talk to?”

Niall sighs. “There’s two guys--both back in their hometowns. Louis, he’s in Doncaster, while Liam is in Wolverhampton.”

“Better book your train tickets, then,” Harry says, then reaches over the arm of the sofa and pulls up a worn-looking Macbook. “Can you show me their pictures?”

It takes Niall a second to get to the internet--he finds out that Harry steals wifi from the people who live above him. “They throw parties every weekend and I snuck in once and found out their password. So sue me, Niall,” he mutters, sticking his tongue out.

Once he gets their pictures on the screen, though, Harry is in awe. 

“Holy _Daddy_ ,” he mutters, as Liam’s profile pictures load, and Niall makes a retching noise. Harry smacks him on the arm. “Look at him. Look at those _arms_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, switching over to Louis’ profile, hoping to escape Harry’s annoying attraction towards every one of their bandmates. “And this is Louis.”

Harry lets out a long, low whistle. “Nice arse.”

“Shut _up_ , Harry.”

“Shit, he looks familiar. I think I’ve met him before.” 

“Really?” Niall asks, surprised. It shouldn’t really be that amazing of a coincidence, though--it seems like the universe is hellbent on making sure that Harry and Louis’ lives are full of criss-crossing paths.

Harry hums in confirmation. “I dunno where, though. Maybe a party? But yeah, I recognize him.”

“That’s good,” Niall says, nodding. “That might make it easier to get him to get involved in this.”

“Are you planning on talking to him next?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. “Because if you are, I want to come with you.”

“Yeah?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s going to bug me, where I know him from. Might as well find out in person.”

 

They book their tickets that night and then they’re on the train the next morning, Niall adamant about leaving early and Harry grumbling curses at him as they get dressed at dawn. It’s only a two-hour trip, really, but when they get off the train, Harry is awake, chewing excitedly on a muffin. 

“So where’re we going?” he asks, mouth full of food. Niall gives him a dirty look.

“Louis works at a theatre in town, so we’re going to stop by and see if he’s there.” 

“Like, a movie theater?”

“No, like a _play_ theatre,” Niall corrects. “I think he’s an assistant director or something. That sounds a lot like him, to be honest.”

Harry nods in understanding and they hail a cab, stuffing their bags into the back. It’s another half-hour drive to the place and Harry gives an unimpressed look at the building when they get out of the car.

“Looks old,” he says, and Niall agrees. The large sign on top says _Doncaster Little Theatre_ but it seem like one of those lively buildings with a lot of personality that gets more interesting the more time you spend indoors.

“Well, it’s now or never,” Niall mumbles, and pulls open the front doors, with Harry right behind him. Right in front of them is a dim, dark box office area, and the entire place is eerily quiet. Which, okay, it makes sense, since it’s so early in the morning.

“Is anyone even here?” Harry asks, and Niall scolds himself for not checking when Louis would be working here. Their arrival must be noisy, though, because someone comes walking out of the dark not too long after Harry speaks.

“Hello?” a voice calls, and a young, blonde girl steps out from behind a curtain. “Um. You’re a bit early for any of the shows.”

Harry grins at her, long and easy, and manages to give her the least sleazy-looking once-over Niall’s ever seen. What a fucking charmer. 

“Yeah, sorry. We’re looking for someone? That works here?” Niall asks, and the girl looks sad.

“I wish I could help, but I’m so new. I’ve really only met a few of the people that work here. Today’s, like, my third day. I’m sorry,” she says guiltily.

“No bother,” Niall replies, though his heart plummets in disappointment. He knows he’s going to catch Louis soon enough but he _misses_ him, wants to joke around with him and laugh along with him and it’s disheartening to hear that he’s going to have to wait longer to get to do all of that. “Do you, by chance, know anyone named Louis that works here?”

The girl frowns. “No, sorry. I wish I could be more help.”

Niall shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”

“Do you know any good places to eat around here, then?” Harry chimes in then, his voice smooth and expression easy. “I’m _starving_.”

Niall has no idea how Harry managed to make that sound so sexual, but it’s working, if the girl’s blush and small smirk are any indication.

“Um, there’s Ricky’s? It’s like a third of a kilometer that way,” the girl points to the left. “They’ve got a great fry-up, it’s my favorite.”

“Good to know,” Harry says, nodding his thanks--and winking--at the girl. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, of course,” the girl replies, and Niall rolls his eyes. He seems to be doing a lot of that around this Harry.

“Thanks for your help, love,” Niall adds, then walks out the door with Harry. “Sorry for the bust.”

“Not really a bust,” Harry says, looking both ways before racing across the street. Niall follows quickly. “I really am hungry. Let’s go to that restaurant and work out what our next move is. We need to find a place to crash, too.”

Niall groans but nods, his stomach rumbling excitedly. It’s rare that he’d let himself get this hungry but his mind’s been so focused on his bandmates it hasn’t had a lot of time to worry about food.

 

Ricky’s turns out to be this small mom-and-pop type diner that’s done up all retro with chrome stools and an old jukebox in the corner that looks like it’s about ready to be retired. Still, the place has a nice vibe about it, and Niall sits down eagerly, eyeing up the menu.

“I think I’m going for that fry-up,” Harry says, and Niall nods in agreement.

“Same here.”

“Do you think--”

“Hello!” a third voice chimes in. Niall freezes up instantly because he’d recognize it anywhere, and to hear it here, so unexpectedly, makes goosebumps rise up and down his entire body. 

He and Harry look up at the same time but the tan, scruffy man in front of them is still scribbling on his pad while he continues to speak.

“Welcome to Ricky’s,” the man says, finally looking up. He smiles at Niall then turns to look at Harry and does a double-take. “Holy shit.”

Harry grins and Niall can see the recognition flash over his eyes. “We’ve totally shagged, haven’t we?” he says, so easily, and the guy--it’s fucking _Louis_ \--blinks at him a couple times before raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes, moth-man, right? Butterfly on your tummy? I remember you,” Louis says, hand on his hip. “Not a bad lay at all.”

“Thank you.” Harry replies, looking positively chuffed. What the _fuck_.

“So what brings you here to exciting Doncaster in the dreary morning hours?” 

“A spectacularly good fry-up,” Harry answers. “Or so we’ve heard. Can we get two of those?”

“Sure, sure,” Louis says, putting his pad away. “Coffee? Tea? Doesn’t matter, I’ll go get some water. Sit tight. Mull it over. I’m Lewis, by the way.”

Niall wants to slap himself--of _course_ Louis goes by the old pronunciation of his name, why wouldn’t he? No wonder that girl at the theatre didn’t know who Niall was talking about.

Harry turns to Niall with a frown. “He said his name differently than you did.”

“Long story,” Niall says. “Let’s focus on the more important topic here--you two _slept_ together?”

Harry beams, proud. “Oh yeah! It was a while back, really, but I think he came to London and we met at a party and y’know,” he waves his hand around. “It was pretty good, though. I knew I recognized that arse for a reason.”

“This is _disgusting_ ,” Niall says, and Louis walks up right then, looking concerned.

“What is? Is it the tables? Because I’ll yell at Nat again, I do it every goddamn morning anyways. He can’t clean for shit.”

“Y’know, for a waiter, you really do swear a lot,” Harry mentions, leaning back on his elbow. “May I ask why?”

Louis snorts. “You’ve heard me swear enough otherwise, why try to change it up now?”

Harry smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at Niall and Niall kicks him underneath the table.

“Listen, Louis--” he starts, but Louis holds up a finger.

“It’s Lou- _is_ ,” he corrects, and Harry barks out a laugh when Niall gives Louis a look of disbelief. 

“Right,” Niall corrects himself, “Lou-is. Can we talk to you? Harry and I?”

“Harry!” Louis cries, looking satisfied. “I was trying so hard to remember your name. I kept on thinking it was Alfred or something, for some reason?" Louis pauses, watching Niall break down into hysterics while Harry's cheeks turn pink. "But that’s right, it’s Harry. Harold. Good man. Anyways,” he turns to Niall again, “why? Is this for a threesome? Because I’ve never really managed to wiggle my way into one but you two are pretty fit, I could give it a go.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Harry agrees, shrugging and looking at Niall and oh my _god_ , Niall’s going to murder the both of them.

“No, Harold, and no, Louis,” Niall says.

“That’s not my name,” both of the other boys say, at the same time, then give each other a smug look and a high-five.

“Fucking wankers. Look, Lou, we have something we need to talk to you about. Seriously. When do you get off work?”

Louis shrugs. “Whenever I want, really. No one else is going to come in before noon and I get out then. Let me just get your food and then I can join you?” he suggests, and Niall nods.

 

“So you’re telling me,” Louis starts, a little while later, watching amusedly as Niall practically inhales the plate of food in front of him, “that we’re all famous? With a proper record deal and everything?”

“Four albums out and counting,” Niall says, and Louis whistles appreciatively.

“And you want to get us back together but _here_?” Louis motions around them. Niall nods. It was surprisingly easy to convince Louis about who he was and where he was from. He didn’t even need to give Louis any kind of personal information as proof before Louis had eagerly started asking him about what life was like in his world. 

“One Direction two-point-oh,” Harry says, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Oh, fuck, wait. Two Direction?”

“No,” Niall says, sternly. He turns back to Louis. “It’s a bit suspicious how easily you’re taking this. I’m not joking about any of this. Are you?”

“No, mate, not at all,” Louis says, leaning back and crossing his arms. He looks pleased, though. “Listen. I’m working one job here and another one in a small, unnoticed theatre in a small, unnoticed town. I haven’t met any of my spectacular goals or achieved any of my hopes and dreams, and suddenly, here comes a stranger,” he points at Niall, “and someone who’s had their cock up me arse,” he points to Harry--Harry gives him a thumbs up, “and they tell me that I’m actually a famous pop star and they want me to help them become famous again? Why would I say no to any of this? Hell, I’ll quit right now.”

“No, you don’t have to--” Niall starts, but it’s too late. Louis is up and walking over to the kitchen.

“Martha!” he cries, sticking his head through the door. “I quit!”

“Good riddance!” a woman’s voice calls back. “Let’s see how long it lasts this time!”

Louis saunters back to the table and drops down onto the seat happily. “Oh, Martha. She really does love me,” he mentions, and Harry nods understandably.

“Don’t you want any, like, proof that I’m who I say I am?” Niall asks, and Louis shrugs. “It was kinda fun to see people all shocked when I told them things they’ve never told anyone.”

“Okay,” Louis starts, speaking slowly, “but I don’t have anything I’ve never told anyone. There’s no secret of mine that at least one person doesn’t know.”

Niall groans and pouts disappointedly. “Of course. Never mind, Boo Bear.”

Louis freezes up. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

“Oh shit,” Niall says, his eyes widening, grinning. “You’ve never--”

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Louis asks, in a hushed whisper as if someone’s listening in. He looks thoroughly embarrassed and Niall is ecstatic.

Niall beams at him and shrugs. “I’m your best friend.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, leaning back and shaking his head. “Okay, I’m in. I’m _so_ in.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked him,” Harry giggles, slinging a friendly arm over Louis’ shoulder and pulling him in. “Good lad.” 

Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight Harry’s grip, falling into his shoulder easily. “So what’s the next step, Niall?”

“Well, there’s just one more person to convince, really,” Niall says. “Liam. He’s over in Wolverhampton so I was just going to stop by and talk to him--and I’m sorry, but I think I need to do it alone.” He looks at Harry guiltily.

“No worries,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ll just head back to London soon, anyways. Maybe you want to tag along?” he asks Louis, who nods happily.

“Let’s do it, bro. I’m a free man now. No job. No pants, no gods, no masters.”

“No pants?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Hush, Harold.”

“Can you two stop your absurd flirting for a moment and help figure out where me and Harry are gonna stay tonight?” Niall asks, flicking through his phone. “I think there’s a motel nearby--”

“Uh, you’re staying at my flat, obviously,” Louis scoffs. “As if you think I’d let you two stay anywhere else.”

Niall gives him a smile. “Thanks, Lou.”

Louis shrugs. “Don’t mention it. Anything for my ‘best friend’,” Louis says, using air quotes and winking at Niall. He turns to Harry, suddenly, and elbows him in the stomach. “Hands to yourself, mister,”

Harry pouts and rubs at his stomach. “So mean. Anyways, what are we doing now? It’s still balls o’clock in the morning.”

“We have no plans. Plus, I kinda just wanted to--y’know, just like. Hang with Louis, and stuff.”

“Aww, Niall!” Louis coos, reaching over the table and poking Niall’s nose. “I have an idea. Let’s get really, really shitfaced.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Harry salutes, and Niall laughs along.

 

\------


	5. Liam

\------

** **

 

**\------**

 

It’s a bit unsettling, but Liam is the one person Niall is the most worried about. Sure, they’re best friends, beyond the definition, even, but Liam has this intense, raw passion about what they do, and he’s proved it by all he’s accomplished. Niall knows he spent his childhood touring around to local performances and how talented Liam was from a young age onwards and how _badly_ he’d wanted this. Liam was fine with the group by the end of the XFactor, but Niall remembers him admitting one drunken night that he’d almost cried himself to sleep after they’d been put together because it meant that the judges didn’t think he was good enough to go solo, and that’s all he’d ever wanted. To be a star. And Niall knows that Liam won’t take this news easy. Liam’s never been that gullible, and the chance that he’ll actually believe Niall is slim--the chance that he’ll join the other boys is even slimmer. He’s independent and hard-headed and the only reason he’d tag along is to finally reach his goal of becoming a successful performer, and Niall’s afraid that means he’ll push the group around until he’s satisfied being the ‘leader’ of the whole thing. He has no idea how Liam’s personality is now and looking at all of the rest of the boys and the small differences they’d had in how they talked, acted, and emoted makes Niall wonder just how much Liam would have changed here--does he still care about music like he once did? Does he still want the same things?

It’s another thing, too, that Liam’s with Zayn now. Niall’s sure Liam knew how Niall felt about Zayn long before they got together, so it’s always been kind of a sore spot to poke at, an uncomfortable thing to think about. But, as it turns out, Liam is more Zayn’s type than Niall is, it seems, and that’s something Niall’s just had to live with for the past couple years. He’s had his suspicions that Liam and Zayn have talked about him and his feelings towards them, though, because oftentimes he’s caught Zayn giving him intense looks or guilty glances, moving his hand off of Liam when Niall walks into a room. Which--it’s not like Niall doesn’t appreciate it, of course, but there’s no good reason for Zayn to be doing that. He and Liam are together, damnit, and Niall shouldn’t be treated like a special case around them. Plus, the only way he thinks he’s really going to get over them being boyfriends is to just be around them as much as possible, watch them canoodle and kiss and be generally lovey-dovey. The only time Zayn does that with Liam around Niall is when they’re not sober or when they’re over-excited, right after coming off stage or winning an award or something like that. Niall knows it’s what he needs to see, has to experience, but it still fucking hurts, watching Zayn love someone other than him--and knowing that Zayn doesn’t love him enough to end things with Liam.

 

It’s not hard to find Liam--it’s easier than it was for the others and Niall almost wishes it wasn’t. He’s got this churning feeling in his stomach when he walks into Goodrich and approaches the front desk.

“Hi,” he starts, watching how the receptionist looks him up and down and settles on a smile. “Is Liam Payne in?”

The woman purses her lips. “I think so. Let me check,” she says, picking up the phone and making a phone call to what must be the factory floor. Niall kind of zones out for the conversation, so lost in his own thoughts that he’s staring into nothing when the receptionist calls his attention.

“Sir?” she says, and Niall blinks a couple times before looking back at her and clearing his throat, offering her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Yes?”

“Mr. Payne is on the floor, but he’ll get out at five. Would you like to wait?”

Niall looks at the clock--it’s already 4:30, another half hour won’t kill him. “Yeah,” he replies, and she nods at him, motioning to a seating area.

Niall spends the first five minutes trying to relax himself, then gives up on that and just lets his anxiety take over, shaking his leg and biting his nails and being generally antsy. He spends a good twenty minutes doing just that, letting his head spiral out of control before he looks at the clock and has to scold himself for letting himself get to this state. 

By the time the receptionist calls him over, Niall is keyed up, bouncing on his heels and glancing towards the door that leads into the factory. He’s so nervous to see Liam, to see how he’s changed, to hear how he’ll react to the news. When the door opens and broad, muscled version of Liam walks out of it, Niall is pretty much floored, because--well, Liam is buff, sure, and he did work out a lot, but this Liam probably had a lot more time on his hands, because he’s definitely more toned than the Liam Niall’s familiar with. His Facebook photos definitely don’t do him justice. Niall can’t help but smile when he sees him and watches Liam do a double-take at Niall’s existence, looking him up and down before approaching him carefully. For a fleeting moment Niall thinks that maybe Liam is in the same situation as him, that he’s approaching him this carefully because he’s wary about Niall, but his hopes come crashing down when Liam stands a good meter from Niall when greeting him.

“Are you the bloke who wanted to see me?” he asks, and Niall nods, clearing his throat.

“I have--well, it’s kind of like a story. Something important. That I have to tell you. Would that be okay with you?” Niall says, his voice breaking a bit out of nervousness. Fuck, he’s so antsy, his palms are sweating now, and if he doesn’t calm himself down, he’s going to have a legitimate panic attack.

Liam narrows his eyes. “Sure,” he starts, “what is it?”

“Well--um, it might be best told at a cafe. Or a pub? Is there one nearby?” 

Liam’s shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah, not too far from here. You good to walk?”

Niall shrugs. “I didn’t bring a car here, so,” he mentions, gesturing behind him to his overstuffed backpack that’s lounging on the chair he’d been sat in. Liam’s eyebrows raise.

“Did you come here straight from Ireland?” he asks, and Niall’s about to question how Liam knew where he was from before he remembers that he’s got a very noticeable accent. Oh, yeah.

“Made a couple stops. London, Doncaster, the such. I can tell you more when we settle down?”

“Sounds good,” Liam agrees. “Grab your stuff, then.”

 

The walk to the pub is quiet, with Niall throwing small, nervous glances at Liam and Liam watching Niall do so with a curious and slightly amused gaze. When they get there, Liam easily makes his way to a table in the back, and the place is surprisingly crowded.

“Is this place always this packed?” Niall asks, and Liam shrugs.

“It’s right after quitting time, so a lot of folks come here to have a drink before the day ends.” Liam looks at Niall. “So what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Um,” Niall starts, clearing his throat. He’s been thinking this whole time about how to approach this--with Harry he really built up the glamour of their life, with Zayn he talked about the solidity and bond between the five of them, and with Louis he didn’t even have to try--but he thinks he’s going to have to go over every detail of their experience with Liam, who’s never really been one to half-ass things, especially stuff like this. 

“Did someone pay you to do this?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow, and Niall blushes.

“No!” he blurts out, then winces at his reaction. “No, no, they didn’t. I’m here because I--well, because--um, have you heard of, like, parallel universes?”

Liam blinks at him. “Um,” he says, and Niall takes a deep breath.

“Like, the life you live and the people you live it with all exist, but in a different setting where the people you were close to may not even know you, and everything you were born with and raised with don’t exist anymore, and it’s completely different from everything you were used to,” Niall finishes in one breath. Liam looks like he’s trying not to smile.

“I mean, I’m a bit of a comic geek. I know what parallel universes are,” Liam says, looking more comfortable and leaning onto his elbows. “But it’s a bit of a strange conversation starter, especially like this. Speaking of, what’s your name? I don’t think I ever got it,” Liam says, frowning.

“I’m Niall. Niall Horan,” Niall says, smiling. 

“Right. I’m--”

“Liam. Liam James Payne,” Niall finishes, and watches Liam look amazed at first, then concerned.

“What the fuck?” he says, immediately distancing himself and tensing up. “Are you some kind of weird stalker or something?”

“Liam,” Niall says, sighing. “Do you really think it’s that hard to find out someone’s full name nowadays?”

“Maybe not,” Liam says, still cautious, “but it’s still fucking creepy.”

“Okay, sure.”

“What does this have to do with parallel universes?”

“How do you think I know your name?”

“Uh, because you’re a stalker?”

“No, Liam. _Jesus_. I’m _from_ a parallel universe.”

That makes Liam freeze up and then cock his head. “What,” he says, confused.

“I’m from a different universe. I know you there. You’re one of my best friends. I just woke up in this world a few days ago and I had to travel all over the UK trying to piece my life together.”

“...right,” Liam says, glancing at the door and back at Niall. “So, is that all, or--”

“Liam,” Niall interrupts, exasperated. He hates pulling the “mindreader” card with all the guys but it’s the only fucking way to capture someone’s attention, it seems. “You have two older sisters, Ruth and Nicola. Your parents are named Geoff and Karen. You were born with only one functioning kidney and you avoided drinking for a long time even though you actually could, really, and your kidney, like, miraculously healed itself not too long ago.”

Liam stops his fidgeting and stares at Niall seriously for what must be a solid minute before finally speaking.

“You have my attention,” he says, and it’s so cheesy that Niall almost snorts but then decides not to since Liam looks incredibly serious. He clears his throat and starts speaking again.

“Where I come from, you, me, and three other guys--our best friends--are in an internationally-famous boyband called One Direction. We’ve traveled all over the place and won multiple awards and had, like, three immense, sold-out world tours and it’s ridiculous but it’s absolutely fucking amazing. We all got put together on the XFactor when you auditioned the second time, when you were 16, and none of us made it as solo male artists but Simon thought it was a good idea to put us all together as a group.”

“We won XFactor?” Liam asks, sounding slightly awed, and Niall gives him a guilty smile.

“Not really. We came in third,” he answers, and Liam looks disappointed. “ _But_ , like I said, we became more famous than any XFactor contestant ever has. We got a record deal right after we got eliminated, like literally right after the show, and the rest was history.” Niall shrugs. “We’ve worked with Ed Sheeran, we’ve met Katy Perry and John Mayer and David Beckham and Daniel Radcliffe and even the fucking _Queen_. We’re a big fucking deal.”

“This is a great fever dream,” Liam starts, and Niall frowns. “But it sounds way too fucking good to be true. And how am I supposed to believe you? Just because you did some research on me I’m supposed to give you money or whatever?”

“Liam, I--I don’t want your money,” Niall says, and Liam shrugs, still looking a bit put out. “I want your trust. And I want your word. I want to get all us five guys back together and I want us to become just as famous as we were in my world, in yours.”

Liam snorts. “You really think we can do that? That we really have the talent to do it?” He shakes his head. “You have a surprising amount of faith in me, Niall, and you’re expecting me to do the same with three other guys I’ve never even met.”

“But--”

“No, listen. I tried XFactor for a second time, and I got cut. I tried a third time, and a fourth time too, but I’ve been rejected since. That’s not what’s for me, I’ve come to learn it. Apparently fate doesn’t want me to do this, and I’m where I belong now. I have a steady job and good life here, and I don’t want to waste any more time chasing after silly dreams that won’t get me anywhere and’ll just end up crushing my spirits.”

“Liam,” Niall insists, “it wasn’t for you because you weren’t with _us_. I _promise_ you, there’s something special that happens when we all get together and sing. It’s amazing and we can do so much and I remember you telling me specifically that you were so glad you never started off solo so that you were able to experience fame with us because it was so much better with friends, with _brothers_ , around.”

“I told you already, I can’t just--”

“Everyone else has agreed to it,” Niall lies, hoping his burning cheeks don’t give him away. He doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to lie to anyone, let alone Liam, but he knows this is possibly his last chance. “Everyone is ready to do this and you’re the last person. You’re the final missing piece and we need to you to finish this puzzle so we can succeed.”

Liam gives Niall a long, calculating look and then sighs. “The other--the guys are all okay with this?”

Niall sighs as well, but gratefully so. “Yes. It took a couple of them some convincing as well but they’re ready to do this. They really want this as bad as you do. As bad as _we_ do.”

Liam nods slowly. “I guess--yeah, maybe this is something I can do,” he says, and Niall is ready to hop onto the table and cheer. “But. I don’t want this to be a game and if I start feeling bad or uneasy about any of it or like it’s going nowhere, I’m not going to stick around, and you should know that and keep it in mind.”

“I will,” Niall promises. “I want to make this as fun and easy for you as I know it can be, Liam, and I promise you you won’t regret it.”

“Yeah, well I promised myself I was never going to try to get into music again,” Liam says, sighing finally and standing up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And look how long I kept that one. This is my last venture into this. If this doesn’t work out, Niall, I’m not going to do anything like this ever again.”

“It _is_ going to work out,” Niall ensures him, and Liam gives him a small smile. 

“Good. Then just let me know when and where you need me, okay?” Liam says, and slides a business card across the table before turning and walking out the door. It’s over so fast that Niall doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until Liam’s out of his sight. It’s disappointingly anticlimactic but he still pulls out his phone and texts Harry excitedly.

 _Liam said yes!!_  

He sighs gratefully and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and only opening them when his phone buzzes and he glances over Harry’s excited reply. He smiles and shuts his eyes again, letting his head rest against the wall behind him as he tries to calm his fluttering heart.

He did it. He actually did it, got the boys together and everything. 

And they’re going to fucking _kill_ this.

 

\------


	6. All

\------

“Does the flat look alright?” Harry asks, from where he’s pacing around the living room. He runs to the kitchen and just a second later there’s a small _ding_ sound and Harry pulls something out of the oven. 

“It looks _fine_ , Harold, take a breather,” Louis mutters, from where he’s spread out on the couch, flipping through a magazine. “You’ve been stressing your balls off for days now.”

“Yes, well,” Harry snips, yanking the magazine from Louis’ hands and rolling it up, using it as a weapon to swat Louis with in between words, “you-- _thwap_ \--are-- _thwap_ \--completely-- _thwap_ \--useless.”

Niall laughs from where he’s sat on the floor, plucking away at his guitar. He’d come back just a little less than a week ago and he’s been holed up in Harry’s flat since, with Louis to keep them company. Niall’s pretty suspicious of what Louis and Harry had been up to when he was gone, but now it seemed like things had cooled off and had just reduced to Louis being a slob and Harry yelling at him for it.

“Whose socks are these?” Harry cries, holding up a pair with little pot leaves printed on them. Niall rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, Hazza,” Louis starts, but then they’re flung into his face, and he sputters, swatting them off and scoffing at Harry’s retreating figure. “Get that stick out of your arse!” he calls, and Harry flips him off in reply.

 

Not one minute later the door buzzer rings, and Louis springs off of the couch, decidedly closer to the door than Harry, and pushes the intercom button.

“He- _llo_ ,” he sings, and there’s a bit of feedback afterwards.

“Um,” Zayn’s drawl calls, and Niall smiles. “Is--is Niall there?”

“Perhaps. What’s the password?” Louis asks, and Harry walks up behind him, trying to get to the button, but Louis pushes him away.

“I-- _what_?” Zayn says, sounding annoyed. “Is this Louis?”

“Everyone’s fucking saying my name wrong now, Niall, thanks a lot,” Louis complains, then pushes the intercom button again.

“No, it’s Harry. Please remember how annoying I am and never forget it. Also remember how beautiful and charming Louis is too. Okay, come in,” Louis says, and pushes the buzzer to let Zayn in, turning and flashing Harry a big smile.

“I hope you rot in hell,” Harry says, and Louis gives him a thumbs-up.

Zayn knocks on the door soon after and Harry is the one to open it, shoving Louis away fast before he can be obnoxious to their guest. 

“Hello!” Harry says, bubbly, when he opens the door. “Welcome to my flat!”

“Uh,” Zayn starts, looking around awkwardly. “Thank you?” He steps in, glancing everywhere a bit nervously, then instantly relaxes when he sees Niall. It’s beyond comforting, just downright flattering, and Niall smiles as a pleasant feeling washes over him and Zayn drops his bags, walking over and settling down next to Niall.

“You play guitar?” he asks, and Niall nods. “Can you play something for me?”

Niall pauses, contemplating on what he can sing that’ll _really_ impress Zayn, but then decides on a solid classic, one that Zayn can probably sing along with him. He plays the first chord and opening notes and Zayn recognizes it immediately, smiling as Niall strums easily.

“ _Baby I just don’t get it, do you enjoy being hurt_?” Niall sings, and Harry and Louis pause their bickering or whatever they’re doing and look over immediately.

“ _I know you smelled the perfume, the makeup on his shirt_ ,” Zayn adds. Niall beams.

“ _You don’t believe his stories, you know that they’re all lies_.”

“ _Bad as you are, you stick around, and I just don’t know why_.”

“ _If I was your man_ ,” Harry starts, and Niall and Zayn look up to him, the two of them proud and surprised, respectively. “ _Baby, you’d never worry ‘bout what I’d do_.”

“ _I’d be coming home, back to you, every night, doin’ you right_ ,” Louis picks up, walking behind Harry and grinding his hips up on him. Harry rolls his eyes.

“ _You’re the kind of woman, deserves good things--fistful of diamonds, handful of rings_ ,” Zayn sings, looking right at Niall. Niall blushes deep. Zayn continues. “ _Baby you’re a star, I just wanna show you you are, you should let me love you_ \--”

Niall joins in with Zayn’s words with a harmony and Harry joins in a second later, picking up on his pitch. Louis is last but his notes are high and work very well, and they keep it going till the end of the chorus--with Zayn still staring intensely at Niall--when there’s a knock at the door.

“Uh,” Liam’s voice says, and Niall suddenly bursts the bubble he’d created around him and Zayn too look up to Liam. He feels guilty immediately because he knows he shouldn’t be keeping the two of them apart, really, but he’d just been so caught up in the moment, in the feeling of what it’d be like to have Zayn actually into him, that it had slipped his mind.

“Liam!” Niall says, and Liam smiles at him.

“You lot sounded really good,” Liam says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder. “Plus, someone let me in and the door to your flat was open, so.”

Harry shrugs. “No worries. You can close it now, I guess. Everyone who has to be here is here.” He brushes his hands on his jeans. “Awesome. Anyone want appetizers?”

 

They spend the next half-hour or so learning everyone’s names and hobbies, their jobs and whatnot and it’s so similar to what the bungalow had been like that Niall keeps getting flashes of deja vu every now and then, remembering the boys talking about their families in closed, guarded ways like they did before they all really knew each other. He got up at the start and sat opposite Zayn afterwards, making Liam have to sit next to Zayn, and tried to ignore Zayn’s mildly hurt and confused looks towards him for the rest of the night. He can’t let anything happen with Zayn, not when Liam is here and obviously so much better for him. He can’t let Zayn miss out on what’s best for him.

“So Nialler here’s the star of the hour, it seems,” Louis says, and Harry raises his beer.

“Here, here!” he says, and Niall laughs.

“Tell us a story, yeah? About us,” Louis asks, and then Niall’s got four very curious pairs of eyes on him. He gulps a bit nervously.

“Um, like. One from when we were young? Or from touring?”

“Both!” Harry and Louis say, at the same time, then give each other impressed, knowing looks, clinking their bottles together.

“Well, I guess a good young one is--oh, yeah. So when we got put together into a group, we decided that we should really get to know each other and get comfortable with each other before we started singing and whatnot. So we went to Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow--”

“Nice,” Harry comments, and Niall winks at him.

“And we just got to know each other. It was really cool, honestly, we goofed off a lot, sang songs by the fire, ate and drank too much, but it was so much fun, and I think that’s what really helped us become such good friends at first. We brought all the mattresses down from other rooms and slept in one room together because one night we heard this groaning sound coming from beyond the backyard and we all got scared shitless and we thought it was a person or something and then Liam ran out there to try and save this person, the hero that he is,” Niall nods, and the boys laugh as Liam blushes a bit, “and Zayn ran after him with a torch he’d made, but in the end we just got back in the house and were too scared to sleep alone so we just stuck together.” Niall shrugs. “And we’ve been doing that ever since.”

Louis _aww_ s and Niall smirks, taking a sip of his beer. “Now tell us something from when we were older!” he demands. “Gimme some sex, drugs, and rock and roll!”

“Uh,” Niall starts, racking his brain. “Well, this one time you and Zayn got so high that you refused to let anyone call you by your own names. You switched names and you didn’t respond to anything but the other person’s name for like, a whole day.”

“Brilliant,” Louis says, holding a hand out to high-five Zayn. Zayn laughs and complies.

“Look, not that this whole,” Liam gestures to the circle they’ve formed, “bonding thing isn’t fun or anything, but I’m, like, y’know, interested in this plan that Niall has for us. For how we’re going to go through with all of this.”

Louis scowls but the other three boys seem to agree, turning to Niall expectedly. Niall gulps. He hadn’t thought this topic would come up this soon.

“Um, I thought we could start by practicing some songs. We need to have our voices down and together before we approach anyone, so we’re going to have to rehearse. And then after that, well, I was planning on stopping by Syco and just playing for them.”

Liam blinks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you serious?”

“I mean--”

“Niall, I thought you had something more solid! You’re still just banking on chance?”

“Well--”

“Didn’t you say you had contacts or something?” Harry asks, brow furrowed. “Like, someone we could talk to or explain our case to?”

Niall bites his lip and shrugs, his stomach sinking. “I mean, sure. There’s lots of names and stuff. I was kind of hoping to just talk to Simon, though.”

“ _Cowell_?” Liam asks, looking at Niall like he’s just grown a second head. “Are you out of your mind? Niall, I thought you had a legitimate plan here. I thought you’d thought this out and knew how to get us where you promised all of us you would.”  
“I--” Niall starts, but can feel the prickle of heat at the back of his neck that’s warning him that he’s starting to get over-anxious. “I just thought--I wanted--”

“What, you thought this was going to be a piece of cake?” Liam scolds him, and Niall starts blinking back tears. “I’ve done this before, Niall, multiple times, and it’s never just this easy. There’s a lot of work involved, a lot of bartering too, you can’t just get what you want because you have a silly dream--”

“Hey!” Louis shouts, finally, effectively cutting Liam off. Niall knows everything Liam’s just said is true but he still feels like he’s going to choke, every breath of his shorter than the last. “Can’t you fucking see what you’re doing to him?” he hisses, and Liam blinks at Louis, obviously taken aback, before really looking at Niall.

“Shit, Niall, are you okay?” Harry says, and Niall nods, a bit too fast, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden, the circle of the five of them too uncomfortable right now as strangers, not welcoming like it used to be when they were all best friends. Niall looks around the five of them and catches Zayn giving Liam a seething, dirty look and feels himself get even _more_ anxious, because he’s already destroying something else he should be helping to build.

“Niall,” Zayn starts, and Niall can’t respond, too involved in everything else around him right now. “Hey, Niall, let’s get some fresh air, okay?” 

Zayn and Harry pick Niall up and walk him outside to the balcony, closing the door behind them and letting Niall gulp up long breaths of the chilly night air. 

“Anybody mind if I have a fag?” Zayn asks, and Niall shakes his head. Harry must too, because Zayn lights one up right after that. It’s comforting and familiar, watching him smoke in the dark silence, and it helps bring Niall back down to earth. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, his voice a bit hoarse. “I didn’t--I wanted us all to be friends first, because that’s how we did it before, and it’s what guaranteed us the success we had. I just have faith in what the five of us can do, and I’m telling you, it’s destiny, what happens to us.” Niall pushes, though it doesn’t seem like either Zayn or Harry need any convincing.

“I believe you, Niall,” Harry says, and slings an arm around Niall’s shoulders. “You know me, I suppose, how much of a dreamer I am. I know we can do this. But it just seems like it’s Liam who’s really afraid of this blowing back in his face.”

“He’s had his fair share of struggles,” Niall says, defensive. “It’s not his fault.”  
“You really do love the lot of us, huh?” Zayn asks, finally, stubbing his cig out on the metal railing. “You don’t even care that Liam tore you apart in there?”

Niall gives Zayn a weak smile. “Liam’s a great guy. He’s got a big heart and he’s so smart when it comes to things like this, he’s just being careful--”

“Niall, look. I’m going to be honest with you, here,” Zayn replies, turning to face him. “I really appreciate this. I want you to know that. If you’d just pushed us all together and forced us to be friends it would’ve been shit. This whole night was a lot of fun and I’m glad you took the initiative to do this. But I want you to know that I don’t want you to try and form my opinions of anyone here. I have my own brain, I know what kind of people I want to surround myself with and who I can get along with, whom I can learn to love. I can make my own decisions and I need you to respect that.”

Niall nods after a second, slowly and regretfully. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just don’t want this to lead to some massive fallout, y’know? And just after we’d all met.”  
Zayn shrugs. “I don’t think it will. Liam seems reasonable, and I think that, even though he’s scared of this going wrong, he still has some hope that it’ll go right. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have left by now?” he asks, nodding towards the sliding glass door. Niall looks through it and catches Liam sitting on a chair, looking exponentially more and more guilty every time he glances at the three of them standing outside. He looks over and sees Louis standing up in front of Liam, obviously pissed at him, arms crossed and a large frown on his face.

“We should probably go back in,” Harry says, worried. “I’m afraid the two of them might start hitting each other soon.”

Zayn snorts. “That’d be a sight.”

“C’mon,” Harry motions, and puts a supportive arm around Niall’s waist, walking him back inside. Niall sees Zayn glance down at where Harry and Niall are touching and purse his lips. It’s ridiculous, but it makes him smile.

“I’m sorry,” Niall says, as soon as he gets inside. Louis rolls his eyes, exasperated, and Liam just looks between all of them. “I can get really claustrophobic and have bad anxiety attacks and I shouldn’t have reacted that way and--”

“Niall,” Louis interrupts. “I love you, but I’m going to slap you if you don’t shut up at this moment. Liam,” Louis turns, facing the aforementioned boy, “would you like to say something?”

Liam sighs and rubs his hands over his thighs, biting his lip. “Niall, look, I--I am sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you feel like that and I might’ve gotten a bit loud and I don’t have the right to be yelling at you like that.”

“Damn straight,” Louis mutters, and Harry smacks him on the arm. “ _Ow_!”

“What you’re trying to do here,” Liam says, easily ignoring the two boys, “is really commendable. I appreciate this and I’m sure the other lads too. But I need everyone to know that I’m in this for the long run and I’m completely serious about all of this. It can be fun but there _has_ to be an element of hard work involved in it, and we can’t just goof off all the time. And if anyone else doesn’t feel that way, this isn’t going to work out.”

“I’m going to work my hardest,” Niall says, “and I have no doubt everyone else is going to as well.”

“Yup,” Harry confirms, and Zayn nods his assent as well. They all turn to Louis, who sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes.

“ _Okay_ ,” he says, obviously annoyed. “I’ll work hard and all that. I want this just as bad as the rest of you. But just on one condition,” he says, holding up a finger. “None of this shitty hard work stuff tonight. Tonight, I want to make four new good friends--well, _three_ good friends and one mild acquaintance,” he mutters, side-eyeing Liam, “and I want to get drunk. I want to have fun and I want to trade stories and I want to have made out with at least one person who isn’t Harry by the end of the night. Can we make that happen?”

“Hear, hear!” Harry cries again, laughing as a wraps an arm around Louis’ waist this time. Niall grins wide and even Liam kind of smiles, though he tries to hide it by acting like he’s rubbing his nose. Zayn is quiet but then grabs his unfinished beer and downs it in one go, the other boys cheering as he sets the bottle back down and then accidentally lets out a small burp. He blushes but Louis pulls him into what looks like the start of a huddle, so Niall fits himself into Zayn’s side and Liam walks over hesitantly, sliding in between Harry and Niall so that Niall’s in between Zayn and Liam. It’s hard enough to think that that’s his position metaphorically, but now that he sees it in a literal sense it’s even worse. Niall _has_ to step up his game and help these two get together.

“Tonight,” Louis begins, pulling Niall out of these thoughts, “friends, Romans, countrymen--”

Harry cheers and Zayn does too, making Niall laugh.

“Tonight we drink to a new group. A new dream, a new band of men who will forge a path to superstardom.” Louis turns to Harry, scandalized. “Harold! Where are the beers?”

Harry jumps and runs to the kitchen, appearing moments later with an armful of precariously-balanced bottles, twisting off the caps and passing them out among the five of them.

Louis raises his high and the rest of them follow, and then Niall and Harry start giggling because Louis is definitely the shortest of them all and his arm is a few centimeters below everyone else’s. Louis scowls and steps up onto the coffee table so he’s taller than the lot of them.

“Liam!” he says, and Liam immediately looks worried. “I see you internally scoffing at how cheesy this is. Good! This is a cheese mccheesefest with a side of chips. Get used to it.” Louis raises his bottle high again, this time his arm far above everyone else’s. “To One Direction!” he cries, and the other boys cheer, even Liam, clinking their bottles together and then taking large swigs to complete the toast. 

It’s Niall who burps this time and giggles, doubling over with Zayn’s arm still around him, holding him secure so he doesn’t fall over. He stands back up and looks around the five of them, these four other boys who’re all but strangers to each other but trust Niall to help them all have their dreams come true.

And Niall’s finally ready to make it happen.

 

\------

 

"Alright, so," Niall starts, resting his guitar on his knee and tuning the strings, "we need a plan of action."

"I vote snacks!" Louis says, and Niall swears he can physically _feel_ the strength of Liam's eye roll.

"How about we talk about practicing?" Niall suggests, and looks to Harry for help, who nods encouragingly.  "I was thinking we could go over some more vocal warm-ups and scales and such. Since it seems it's really just me, Harry, and Liam who have training here--"

Louis clears his throat and gives Niall a dirty look. "Excuse me? I _did_ do a few years of musical theater. I think that should count."

"Right," Niall says, right as Liam scoffs. Niall winces, hoping Louis doesn't react too intensely to that. He doesn't seem to notice, though, more focused on his phone, so Niall sighs gratefully and turns to Zayn.

"Zayn? You good to learn this stuff?"

Zayn shrugs. "Yeah, man, whatever you think. I mean for me, it's just--singing just comes naturally, y'know, I never really thought about what to do or what to sing. I just did. So."

Louis grins. "We can't all be so lucky."

Liam snorts. " _I'll_ say."

"Mate, what the fuck is your problem?" Louis snaps, finally. Niall closes his eyes, trying to take a deep breath and calm himself.

"First of all, I'm not your 'mate'," Liam says, with air quotes. "Second of all, you're the most immature, self-centered entertainer I've ever met. How the hell have you ever been successful in show business?"

"Easy," Louis says, standing up and brushing his hands down the tops of his thighs. "For starters, I don't go around worrying what chavs like you say about me and my talent." He gives Liam a smirk. "It's called self-confidence."

Liam doesn't reply, but his lips are pressed together tightly and the tops of his cheeks are turning pinker by the second. Niall shifts his guitar aside, ready to stand up and mediate the interaction, but he's stopped by Harry's hand on his chest. He looks over and sees the other boy shake his head and gently push him back down onto the couch. 

"Let them work it out now," Harry whispers, leaning over so his mouth is at Niall's ear. "It'll be easier to watch them slowly make up than have to deal with the same fight over and over again for ages."

Niall nods his confirmation and shifts his attention back to Liam and Louis, who're eye-to-eye now, staring each other down. Louis still seems in control of the argument, though, Liam looking like he's growing more flustered by the second. It's almost amusing to watch this, especially since he's never actually seen the two of them fight like this before. He's heard the stories of the shouting matches behind closed doors back during the X-Factor, but that's about it. It's pretty surreal to see them ready to hit each other.

Well, Liam ready to hit Louis. Louis looks more predatory though, like he's anticipating the swing, and sure enough, when Liam bursts and launches a fist at him, Louis easily sidesteps the attack and uses his momentary advantage to pull Liam closer, sling his arm over Liam's shoulder, and stretch Liam's arm across his own waist, so that it's almost like they're…hugging?

"Aww, Liam!" Louis coos, so close to the other boy that their noses are practically touching. Liam seems frozen, unable to decide what to do or say. "You wanted a cuddle? All you had to do was ask."

Liam just stares at Louis, eyes flitting between Louis' eyes and then--if Niall's not mistaken--once or twice down to his lips as well, before inhaling deeply and pulling against Louis' hold. 

"Let me go, Louis," he says, sternly, but Niall knows just how Louis reacts to people being stern, and he wishes he could somehow telepathically communicate the knowledge to Liam. Liam's strong, sure, but he's not as determined as Louis to win a fight or to prove a point, and it's like some sort of superhuman strength kicks in on Louis' part, because as much as Liam twists his torso or arm, he's unable to get free from Louis' grasp. Niall watches his muscles bulge in fascination and silently wonders if Zayn's doing the same, seeing how Liam is strong and tough and rigid. He glances over to the other boy but sees that Zayn, in standard Zayn fashion, is particularly uninterested with what's going on in front of him and has opted to spread himself out on the bed instead, tapping away on the screen of his phone.

Niall feels a nudge at his side and jumps, as if he's been caught or something, only relaxing when he hears Harry's deep chuckle behind him.

"I can understand the feeling, mate," Harry mutters, giving Zayn an appreciative glance himself. "Lad's got that whole dark, mysterious thing going on."

Niall blinks in shock then internally retches, just the thought of Harry actually interested in Zayn so unsettling that it's got him feeling nauseous. His Harry knows how he feels about Zayn, is always trying to push him closer to the boy or slip out of lunch dates with the two of them so that Niall can be alone with Zayn. This is weird. Harry scoping Zayn out, Liam and Louis fighting like this--it's too fucking weird.

“Louis,” Liam says again, “Let me _go_.”

“Why?” Louis asks, tone a bit mocking. “We’re just having fun, right? Just being lads.”

Niall can tell Liam’s ego is getting to him because regardless of his girth, he’s unable to pull away from Louis’ grip. “Louis,” he barters, and Louis looks at him before rolling his eyes and sighing. 

“Fine,” he turns back to Liam. “I’ll let you go, Payne, but only for a kiss.”

Liam is silent for a moment. “A _what_?”

“A _kiss_ , you dolt. Snog me and we’ll be even.” Louis says, loosening his grip and pursing his lips comically. He’s obviously joking but something weird is happening with Liam.

"I--" he starts, face redder than ever, and Niall watches the panic grow exponentially in his eyes as he glances between all the boys' faces. "I have to go."

"Liam--" Niall says, at the same time as Harry and Louis. He gives them both weird looks. Liam just shakes his head. 

"I can't do this, not like this, I have--I just--I can't," he mutters, then races out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

It's quiet in the room for a moment, before Louis lets out a loud sigh. "Well, I tried," he says, flopping down onto the bed. "Bloody good snog it would’ve been, too."

"You're ridiculous," Harry replies, but there's a bit of playful mirth in his tone. "You scared the straight right out of him."

Louis lets out a loud laugh. "I know straight when I see it, Harold, and trust me, no one in this band falls in that category."

Niall must blush from the top of his head to his toes, because Louis looks over and gives him an amused once-over. "I'm good at reading people, Niall. I wouldn't be where I am if I wasn't."

"Right," Niall manages to reply, and he can't bring himself to look over at Zayn, though he can feel the intensity of the boy's gaze burning into his side. "I think…I should go talk to Liam." He scrambles up quick, but he's pressed back into the bed for the second time by Zayn's hand, firm on his knee.

"Nah," Zayn says, sitting up and pushing himself off the bed. "I'll talk to him."

Niall feels his heart sink like stone into his gut. Of _course_ Zayn wants to be the one to console Liam, he probably ignored the kiss because he was pissed off and now he wants to get Liam onto his side so that they can be together. Which is--understandable, Niall supposes, considering how clingy and possessive he's seen the two of them get with each other.

"Sure," he replies, trying to act nonchalant, and Zayn gives him a curious look before saluting all the three boys and walking out of the room. As soon as the door shuts, Louis lets out a tired exhale and falls onto the sofa.

"I'm beat. Who wants to nap with me?"

"I'm always down for a good cuddle," Harry agrees, squeezing himself between Louis and the cushions and somehow weaving his body around where Niall is sitting. Niall shakes his head. "You two are ridiculous."

"Uh, ridiculously _comfortable_ , duh," Louis counters, then closes his eyes. "Wake me up when Liam gets his head out of his arse--if that ever happens."

Harry gives an answering snort but shoots Niall a concerned look, which Niall waves off. If there's anyone that can fix this problem, it's Zayn.

 

It turns out to be true, and Zayn returns with a much more placated Liam, who gives everyone a weak smile but goes out of his way to stay away from Louis. It’s a bit strange but Niall doesn’t fight it--he’s sure whatever they’re going through is going to work itself out soon enough.

The next few weeks are filled with more practice than Niall ever remembers them having. Maybe it’s because they want to be ready as soon as possible, but something’s definitely juiced all the boys up and it’s like they’re all on some kind of high, cheering every chance they get and trying their hardest, and that’s all Niall can ask for.

Louis had quit his jobs, of course, shrugging and assuring them all that he could pick them back up if he needed to, that his bosses loved him more than they let on. Harry still busked in his free time and played a couple of solo gigs, giving the reason that he needed to play them for cash, but Niall had looked around Harry’s digs recently and was sure that Harry was making more money writing songs than he let on. Still, the boys attended Harry’s performances and cheered obnoxiously loud from the audience, somehow encouraging the rest of the audience to do so too, and Harry had a standing ovation in no time, prompting him to run offstage after the show and smack a long kiss to every single boy’s cheeks in thanks--to Louis’ delight and Liam’s obvious chagrin. Zayn took a break from his school, saying that he had more than earned a semester off by now and that his counselor thought it was a good idea for him to take a rest anyways, to kind of refresh his mind before diving back into his studies. And Liam had apparently racked up several weeks’ worth of paid time off, so he was more than happy to crash in London with the rest of the boys and make sure they were staying on track.

Niall had been worried that Liam would create more distance between himself and the group, but he seems to be fitting in fine, developing a solid relationship with each of the boys, though it still seems to be a bit tense around him and Louis. Niall supposes that he can’t do much about that, since it was a problem the two of them solved by themselves back in the other world, but he still tries to bridge any awkwardness and make sure the two of them aren’t left alone with each other for too long just to avoid any other fights that could happen.

Liam with Zayn, though, is another story. Niall keeps trying to push the two of them them together and give them their space, always ducking out with a convenient excuse of sorts. They get along fine, always talking about superheroes or being silent and mature and having secret conversations with only their eyes, just like Niall has seen them do for ages. It seems to be doing something weird to his relationship with Zayn, though, and Niall doesn’t know how he feels about that. Zayn keeps acting cold towards him when it’s just them two, but always looks sad and guilty about snipping at Niall. He’s not as close as Niall would like him to be, and any physical contact they would usually have has completely diminished, with Zayn making an extra effort to avoid being next to Niall whenever he can. It’s destroying Niall, of course, but he tries to avoid those feelings of heartbreak by getting absorbed in his music, like he always does.

 

“Okay, this one’s called Illusion,” Niall says, starting to sing, “ _Tell me you believe in love, it’s not an illusion_ \--” he stops to scribble down the lyrics as he continues to hum along. “This is Liam’s part, first, then Harry, then Zayn sings the chorus--”

“Can you sing it for us?” Liam asks, brow furrowed. Zayn’s looking over his shoulder, reading the lyrics, looking more annoyed by the second, like he knows the story behind the song.

“Uh, sure,” Niall says, picking up his guitar. “ _No, baby, this is not an illusion, I’ve really got my heart out on my sleeve, oh baby, this is not an illusion, there’s magic between you and me_ ,” he sings, and then makes the mistake of looking up at Zayn and locking eyes with him. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t look away, and his hands continue to strum at his guitar, his mouth open with the words still tumbling out. “ _No, baby, this is not an illusion, you’ve really got me lifted off my feet, so tell me you believe in love, ‘cause it’s not an illusion to me_.”

Zayn looks like he’s ready to punch someone and throw up at the same time, and Niall wishes the earth would open up and swallow him right into it. He’s so confused, has no idea why Zayn looks so pissed at this, especially at _him_ , unless--well, he might be angry that Niall is too heart-eyed over him and making him feel guilty for falling in love with Liam? Shit.

“Who wrote this?” Liam asks, and Niall shakes himself out of his stupor so he can respond.

“Oh. Um, well, it was inspired by you,” Niall says, shrugging. “You were talking about--um--your significant other and your relationship with them over the years and the lyrics were kind of written based off what you said.”

Liam frowns. “Who was it?” he asks, and Niall blinks at him, taking a deep breath. He doesn’t want to lie to Liam, it’s the last thing he wants to do, really, but he doesn’t know how breaking the news now would make everyone react.

“Shit,” he says, then lays his guitar down and scrubs at his face. “Um, well, it’s a good friend of yours,” Niall starts, hesitating and biting his lip. “They’re someone we all know very well.”

“Is she fit?” Liam asks, and Louis rolls his eyes. “I mean, like. Did she get with me after One Direction or before?”

“They, um--”

“Why do you keep saying ‘they’?” Liam interrupts, obviously confused, and suddenly Louis has perked up, much more interested in the conversation than before.

“Yes, Niall,” he asks, glancing in between Liam and Niall, “why on _earth_ are you using gender-neutral pronouns?” 

Niall throws Louis a glare and Harry must catch on too, because his eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” he blurts, then smacks a hand over his mouth. Louis looks absolutely _delighted_ , that little shit.

“Um,” Niall starts, but he can’t find the right way to say this, especially not now, but he looks over to where Liam is sat, stilling looking terribly befuddled, with Zayn’s arm resting on his shoulder comfortably. Well, fuck. What does Niall know? Maybe they’ve already started fucking in secret, already made out, like the first time they did ‘on accident’. It’s better to just lay it all out in the open now. Niall takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the worst. “It’s Zayn.”

There’s a long, awkward silence in the room while the news kind of settles in amongst them. Louis gets it almost immediately, to no surprise, and sits there practically _vibrating_ with excitement as Harry curses and combs a hand through his own hair.

“What about Zayn?” Liam asks after a minute, breaking the silence, and Louis can’t take it anymore, jumping onto his feet and pointing a finger each at Liam and Zayn.

“You two are _together_ ,” he squeals, and Niall watches Zayn blink up at Louis, expressionless, while Liam glances between Zayn and Louis till he _finally_ gets it. He immediately shifts away, letting Zayn’s arm slide off his shoulder, and Zayn looks over at him, brow raised. 

“Wh--are you--” he turns to Niall. “Niall, what the _hell_?”

“This isn’t Niall’s doing, you dolt,” Louis scolds. “You’ve been shagging Zayn for _years_ , apparently. Fuck, this is the best news I’ve heard all month. Can we get a cake for this?”

“Louis,” Harry warns, his tone tense. He stands up and grabs Louis by the arm, dragging him out of the door of the apartment. “We’re going to, um--”

“Get a cake?” Louis suggests, and Harry pulls him outside, slamming the door shut behind them.

And then it’s just Liam, Zayn, and Niall, alone in the room together, and Niall’s never felt more awkward in his life. 

“So--” he starts, but he’s interrupted by Liam.

“I’m not going to be fucking _gay_ for this,” Liam spits, and Niall groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

“What’ve you got against gay people, Liam?” Zayn asks, finally speaking up. Niall looks up at him and Zayn looks more amused than anything. He can’t believe Zayn’s taking it so well.

“I don’t have _anything_ against gay people--I’m just _not_ gay, and I can’t pretend to be--”

“It’s not some disease, Liam, calm down,” Zayn says, stretching back and leaning on his arms. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not.” 

“I don’t feel that way about boys,” Liam insists, and now he’s up on his feet, pacing across the room. “I mean, there was that one time at that club, but that--that was a mistake, and it shouldn’t have happened, and I was drunk--”

“Y’know, for someone who’s _not_ gay,” Zayn starts, raising an eyebrow. “You sure are denying this an awful lot.”

“I--” Liam says, looking between Zayn and Niall, panicked. 

“You’re not. We get it.” Zayn says. How the hell is he so calm and collected right now? Niall would expect him to be out of the apartment as well, stomping off in a fury over Liam’s close-mindedness and refusal to admit his true feelings. “We’re just mates, right?”

Liam exhales gratefully. “Right. I’m sorry, Zayn, I don’t want to--”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s fine. You’re not really my type anyways, Liam, don’t worry,” he says, which. What?

“ _What_?” Niall repeats, absolutely floored, and the other two boys turn to look at him. Liam looks confused while Zayn looks--almost endeared, actually. “You two don’t--”

“ _No_ ,” Liam insists, and Zayn is smiling now, looking very pleased with himself, as if he’s just solved some big riddle.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, his smile growing wider. “I get it now. Niall, you little shit.”

Niall blushes deep, but is still confused about what’s going on. “I don’t--what?” he stammers, and Zayn shakes his head, still grinning.

“Liam,” he says, turning to the other boy. “Remember how we were talking about Niall always bailing when it was the three of us in a room?”

“Yeah, and you said that you thought that he-- _oh_ ,” Liam says, apparently getting the point that Zayn’s trying to make, and his eyes widen too. He smiles. Why does he have to pick now of all the times for him to be quick on the uptake?

“Will someone explain to me what you two are talking about?” Niall asks, flushed and a bit nervous now. He can feel himself sweating and anxious and Zayn must pick up on it, because he finally decides to relieve Niall’s pain.

“I thought you hated me,” Zayn says, and Niall blinks at him, shocked.

“What?” he says, and Zayn shrugs.

“You were really nice when you came to see me and then on the first night here it was the same, but then you started getting distant and I didn’t know why and I thought it was because you stopped liking me or something, and I just couldn’t figure it out. And then you kept on pushing me to Liam and I thought you were trying to get me to not like you or to stop thinking of you as my best friend or something and I just felt like shit and--”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall interrupts, practically on the verge of crying now. “You’re my best friend, okay. I love you so much, please don’t--” Niall chokes a bit on the real meaning behind his words, wishes he could just kiss Zayn right now and tell him how he really feels, wishes it was that easy, “don’t ever think that I don’t care about you.”

Liam looks like he’s just witnessed someone harm a baby animal and he looks between Zayn and Niall. “Group hug?” he suggests, and then moves forward, pulling Zayn and Niall in together so that Niall’s basically sandwiched between the two other boys. 

“Liam,” Niall chokes out, coughing. “You’re crushing me.”

“Crushing you with _love_ ,” Liam corrects, but eases off a bit, pulling away and ruffling up Niall’s hair a bit. He pauses, then moves to do the same to Zayn before Zayn gives him a death glare and Liam smirks and shrugs. “Figured I’d try.”

“So I’m confused. Are we friends now?” Zayn asks Niall, who’s still trying to get himself to not cry. Niall laughs.

“We always were,” he assures Zayn, then surges forward on a wave of adrenaline and self-confidence and presses a soft, lingering kiss on Zayn’s cheek. He sees Zayn blush a little bit but smile his way and that’s all he needs to finally settle the uneasiness that’s been churning away in his stomach. “Best friends,” he adds, just to be safe.

Liam smiles at the two of them then suddenly falters. “Shit--Louis is never going to let me hear the end of this, though.”

Niall squints up at him. “I have to say, honestly, 95% of the time, drunk gay experiences do tend to mean that you’re, like. A little bit gay, at least.”

Liam scowls. “Am not.”

Zayn smirks. “You’re getting pretty defensive again.”

“ _Stop_ it,” Liam pouts, actually stomping his foot down, and that’s when the front door bursts open again, Louis calling out his presence loudly.

“If there’s any sort of sex going on, I want in!” he cries, then stops short when he sees the three of them just lounging around. “Oh,” he says, disappointedly. Harry jogs in behind him a second later.

“Damn,” he comments. “Who died?”

Louis puts a hand over his heart. “Our Akita.”

“Evita?” Zayn and Niall say, at the same time, then laugh and high-five each other. Liam still looks confused, and Louis groans.

“Liam, _please_ ,” he whines, then puts his hands on his hips. “Okay, band vote. We watch Rent tonight and pop Liam’s musical cherry?” 

Everyone but Liam raises their hands.

“ _Hey_ ,” Liam whines in reply. “I’ve seen musicals.”

Louis scoffs. “Like what?"

“I’ve watched Grease and stuff,” Liam answers, and Louis lights up.

“My favorite one. Aww, Liam, you may have a heart yet. Regardless, we’ve still got to do this to get a bit of culture in you. And I’m interested to see how long we can get through the film before you make a homophobic comment.”

“I--” Liam sputters, but Louis loops their arms through each other and pulls the two of them down on the couch.

“Oh!” he says, out of the blue, and Liam jumps in surprise. “We bought treats!”

“By ‘treats’,” Harry explains, holding up a plain white bag, “Louis means we went to an adult store and bought a dildo.”

“It’s a _butt plug_ ,” Louis corrects. “For whatever Liam may want to explore. We also got gummy penises,” he says, making grabby hands so Harry throws the bag at him. He fishes the packet out of the bag and offers one to Liam. “Want one?”

“Um,” Liam says, flustered. “Sure.”

“Good lad. Though I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve had a dick in your mouth.”

“ _Louis_ ,” three different voices say at the same time, but Niall’s laughing too hard to join in.

 

It’s a bit strange afterwards, but it all still works. Louis and Liam are getting along better every day, slowly turning back into their old selves--with a bit something more, though, if the way Louis looks at Liam sometimes is anything to go by. Niall stops trying so hard with Zayn, as per Zayn’s request, and just tries to let things happen. It’s weird knowing that neither Zayn nor Liam have any sort of sexual or romantic interest in each other, since it’s a subject that Niall’s been so involved in for ages now, and every once in a while he still has to remind himself that it’s okay to cuddle up to Zayn with Liam around, that Zayn won’t move to sit with Liam when he’s closer to Niall. It’s nice. It’s still a bit sad that Zayn has no real interest in Niall, though, but Niall’s trying to get through it day by day.

“We’re getting pretty good,” Harry says, one night, when they’re all gathered around his coffee table, eating from a mountain of nachos he’d constructed. Louis is pretending to feed Liam but teasing him immensely instead and Zayn is picking out everyone else’s jalapenos so that he can have them for himself. “I think we should talk to whomever we have to talk to soon.”

“I agree,” Liam says, finally grabbing Louis’ wrist and holding it still as he eats the tortilla crisp. Niall sees Louis flush a bit as Liam’s lips slide across his fingertips but decides not to comment--though if the smirk and knowing glance Harry gives Niall afterwards is any indication, he’s not the only one who notices. “D’you think we can meet with Syco soon?”

Niall nods. “Yeah, I think I can set up a meeting. We just need to get in and get in front of Simon. I can convince him from there.”

“Yeah, with your brilliant ‘mind-reading’ mumbo-jumbo,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers. “Tell Simon you know what his real age is. That’ll convince him you’re a psychic.”

Niall laughs. “I was thinking more along the lines of actual facts. Y’know, what we’ve achieved, what we can achieve. Also I know his personal home phone number and iPhone passcode, so I can always pull that out if we need it.”

They all laugh and keep eating, but it’s Harry who breaks the silence next.

“I have some...kinda bad news,” he says, and that draws everyone’s attention. He clears his throat. “My landlord kinda saw that we’re all living in here--plus some of my asshole neighbors tattled on us--so he’s mad. Said that really only two people can live here at once, otherwise it’s a fire hazard. So we’re going to have to split up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Louis says, scooping up some cheese. “Where are Niall, Liam, and Zayn gonna go?”

“Hey,” Niall says, “what makes you think it’s me who’s going to be going? I was in Harry’s apartment first.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Respect your elders, Niall.”

“It’s not really a problem,” Zayn says, before Niall can reach across the table and flick Louis’ ear. “I still have my place, it’s not that far from here. I just haven’t been staying there for a while, but we can go back.” Zayn glances at Niall and shrugs. “Whoever wants to come.”

“I will,” Niall answers, probably a bit too quickly, but whatever. “I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, smiling. “Ace.”

“Am I gonna be out on the streets now?” Liam asks, hitting Louis’ hand every time Louis reaches for one of his nipples. 

“You’ll be fine, Liam,” Louis replies, probably touching more of Liam’s torso than is necessary. “Look at your jawline. You’ll have clients in no time.”

Liam scoffs and puts Louis in a chokehold. Louis squirms and squeals but he honestly doesn’t seem to mind, and Harry and Niall smile at each other again. “Can I bunk with you two, then?” Liam asks, and Zayn nods.

“For sure, bro.”

“Brilliant,” Liam says, then noogies Louis thoroughly before letting him go. Louis is red-faced but there’s a sparkle in his eye as he fixes his fringe. 

“Good riddance,” he mutters, and--when he thinks no one is watching--adjusts himself subtly.

Harry and Niall simultaneously choke on their drinks.

 

Zayn’s apartment is the same as Niall remembers it, though it’s got a bit of a stale air in it, since no one’s lived here in a while. 

“It’s only one bedroom,” Zayn says, “but there’s a pull-out couch.”

“Oh,” Niall answers, then gulps. He _really_ doesn’t want to ask to sleep in Zayn’s bed with him, but if he gets stuck with the couch, he’ll probably cry himself to sleep.

“Mind if I take the couch, Nialler?” Liam asks, dropping his bag onto the cushions. “I want dibs on late-night telly.”

Niall sighs gratefully. “Fine with me.” Zayn smiles and motions for Niall to follow as he walks through the hallway. 

“My room,” he says, opening his bedroom door. It’s large and white and messy but lived-in, with crumpled papers and stacks of books everywhere. It’s very _Zayn_ , which is what makes it comforting, and the bed definitely looks large enough for the two of them to share it.

“Nice,” Niall comments, and drops his bag on the floor.

“That’s it?” Zayn asks. “No compliments about my wonderful decor?”

“Wow, Zayn, I love that used condom in the corner. It really adds that chill vibe of this room,” Niall deadpans, and watches Zayn blush and dart around him to try and see what Niall talked about. 

“Zayn, there’s no used condom here,” he says, and Zayn shoves him playfully.

“Fuck you,” he says, but there’s no heat behind his words, a gentle smile on his lips instead. “You ready for bed?”

“Yeah, yeah, just let me get washed up,” Niall says, heading into the bathroom and shutting the door. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. His cheeks are flushed and his heart won’t stop jackrabbiting. He’s just sleeping in a bed with Zayn, he’s done this so many times before--but now Zayn is _single_ and there’s this heavy web of opportunity hanging in the air. Niall is pretty sure Zayn doesn’t reciprocate his feelings but if they do end up snogging--or something else--Niall is very sure he can keep it casual. He knows Zayn is a laid-back guy, doesn’t really settle too quickly, and he can get behind that. Sure. He splashes some water on his face, brushes his teeth, and quickly changes out of his jeans, pulling on some worn pajamas before he walks out of the bathroom.

The first thing Zayn does is look him up and down, which makes Niall flush all the way down his chest. 

“Sorry,” Niall says. “I usually sleep shirtless.”

“I know that,” Zayn says. “We’ve slept around each other for a while now.”

“Right,” Niall replies, then walks over to his bag, tossing his clothes on top. “Which side would you rather I take?”

Zayn shrugs. “Whichever one you want. I don’t really sleep in my bed too often, honestly,” he says, though the unsaid ‘unless I have someone over’ rings through the air and shoots an arrow through Niall’s still fast-beating heart. 

“Haven’t slept in it in a long, long time, actually,” Zayn adds on, looking straight at Niall, as if he’s read Niall’s mind. Niall gulps. He crawls into the bed quickly, forcing himself to not turn and casually watch Zayn get undressed. He hears Zayn in the bathroom, the water running for a few minutes, then hears him walk closer to the bed. He’s hoping Zayn’ll get in on the further end like any regular mate would, but he stiffens up as he feels Zayn slide under the sheets right behind him.

“Is this okay?” Zayn asks, his voice barely above a whisper, and it makes the hairs on the back of Niall’s neck stand up, goosebumps popping up all over his arms.

“Um. Yeah,” Niall answers, trying to sound like this isn’t affecting him. He can feel the heat coming off of Zayn’s body and he’s pretty sure Zayn doesn’t have a shirt on either and this is so weird, there hasn’t been this much sexual tension between the two of them in _ages_.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Niall can’t get himself to calm down, not with they way the two of them are laying in the bed. Zayn finally speaks up.

“Niall?” he asks, and Niall gulps.

“Yeah?”

“Your heart is beating, like. Really fast.”

Niall inhales shakily. “Yeah, I--I know.”

Zayn hums, contemplating. He slowly reaches an arm over Niall’s shoulder and pushes him down so he’s lying down on his back with Zayn right next to him, resting on his side. Zayn stares at him for a long time before slowly bringing a hand up and brushing his fingers lightly across Niall’s cheekbone. Niall can’t help but gasp and hold his breath, his eyes fluttering closed as Zayn continues touching him, feather-light, down his jaw and neck and chest. He lets Zayn’s hand skirt across his abs before grabbing his wrist and forcing his eyes open.

“Zayn?” he says, and he hates that he sounds so scared, so terrified of what this means, of what they’re doing. He’s wanted this for so long that he could scream but he hasn’t even been able to dream about it without feeling cripplingly guilty, and this all just seems too good to be true now.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, his eyes darting all over Niall’s face. Niall opens his hand slowly and lets Zayn’s hand slide down till their fingers are interlocked with each other.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” Niall breathes, knowing that he must sound ridiculous. He doesn’t care, he _needs_ to know that this is real, that this is actually happening to him right now.

“Niall,” Zayn murmurs, sliding even closer to Niall so that his body is half on top of Niall’s, bringing his hand back up to cup the side of Niall’s face. “If this is a dream, I don’t want either of us to wake up.”

And then he’s leaning close, and the places where their skin is touching are so, _so_ hot but in the best way possible, and when Zayn’s mouth finally touches Niall’s, he feels years and years of emotions surge through him, tearing at his insides, trying to claw their way out. He wants to scream and cry and push Zayn away and slap him for torturing him this much then pull him close again and wrap himself around Zayn’s open, inviting body. But he can’t do that, he has to remind himself that this is a different Zayn, this Zayn has only known Niall for a few weeks now--just a few weeks and he’s already snogging Niall like this in the bed he hasn’t fucked anyone in in ages, and that privilege makes Niall blush hard, pink all the way down his chest again. 

 

 

Zayn shifts and Niall tears himself out of his thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, the kiss that is currently rendering him boneless and breathless. He finally opens his mouth and feels Zayn sigh gratefully and slide his tongue next to Niall’s, tracing his teeth and then sucking Niall’s tongue into his mouth in a way that makes Niall’s toes curl. Niall moans brokenly and Zayn dives in even deeper, which seemed impossible just a second ago, pressing their bodies so close together that it already feels like Zayn’s inside him, which--fuck, what a thought. What a dream. A dream that might actually come true for once. Niall forces his arms to stop hovering and lifts them up, wrapping them around Zayn’s lithe torso, picking up his leg and hooking it across Zayn’s thigh so that he can lift his hips up and grind them against Zayn’s.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn mutters, pulling away from the kiss and pressing his face into Niall’s neck, sucking at the skin there and grinding onto Niall slowly, the two of them gasping quietly as their hips pick up speed.

“Zayn--” Niall tries, because he’s _so_ close to coming but he needs something more, and Zayn must get it, because he pulls back and slides a hand into Niall’s pants easily, pulling his cock out and letting it drip precome onto his stomach. 

“So gorgeous, Niall,” Zayn says, making Niall blush again, then slides down the length of Niall’s body and pushes his underwear down his legs, taking his entire cock into his mouth in one go. Niall can barely breathe, let alone speak, and he gasps as Zayn sucks and licks his way around Niall’s cock until Niall is whimpering, grinding his hips up in small circles. Zayn moves with him, rolling Niall’s balls in his palm. It’s when he slides further past them and presses his thumb against Niall’s perineum, though, that Niall finally comes, giving a choked-out cry as his shoulders lift off the bed and he grips the back of Zayn’s head, pulling him off near the end so he can watch a bit of his come spurt over Zayn’s lips and chin.

Niall moans and pulls Zayn back up, licking at whatever he’d gotten on Zayn’s face and then kissing him deep again, shuddering as Zayn grinds down onto his oversensitive cock.

“Gonna come like this,” Zayn says, but it’s not really a question, more of a declaration, and it’s so _hot_ that Niall keens as Zayn continues to fuck down onto him, grunting and moaning until he freezes up and shakes, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched around the sheets.

Niall pulls Zayn into a kiss again, unable to get enough of the action, and Zayn falls easily, still loose-limbed from his orgasm. 

“I came in m’ pants,” Zayn slurs, giggling, and Niall joins him, the two of them laughing as they tangle their legs together.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” Niall confesses, pressing their lips together. Zayn hums into it. 

“I’m not gonna stop you,” he assures him, and Niall moans thankfully. They do end up breaking apart a little bit later, though, so they can get cleaned up and Zayn can wipe himself off, but he’s back under the sheets soon after, pulling Niall in close.

“Niall,” he asks, carding his fingers through Niall’s hair and making Niall purr with contentedness. Niall hums in response. “Do you love me?”

Niall blinks at Zayn, a bit confused. “Of course I do. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but,” Zayn starts, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, “I know you were trying to set me up with Liam because that’s what we’re like where you’re from but I also know that it really did kill you to see me and him together like that.”

Niall shrugs. “Yeah, a bit. But it’s what I know.”

“And when you were back home? All these years? Did you just sit around and let it eat you up inside, watching me and Liam be a couple?”

Niall gulps back a couple tears. This isn’t what he wanted from this, he wanted to murmur sweet nothings into Zayn’s mouth and kiss him till they fell asleep. Hearing Zayn talk about all this is just making the feelings of guilt surge up back into his system again and he feels like he’s going to throw up. 

“I--” he starts, but then retches, scrambling out of the bed and running to the toilet. He gets the lid open just in time, emptying his stomach’s contents into the bowl, shaking over it. He hears Zayn enter the bathroom right after him, a comforting hand on his shoulders, and starts to cry, his tears falling into the pile of vomit underneath him. Great. Now he’s fucking disgusting too. 

There doesn’t seem to be a second wave of nausea, though, so Niall flushes the toilet and stands back up, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Zayn and rinsing his mouth out, brushing his teeth again and walking back to the bed. Zayn grabs his arm, though, and spins him around so they’re facing each other.

“Niall,” Zayn demands, and Niall sighs, defeated.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Niall admits. “I’m already feeling guilty for doing this with you with Liam sleeping right in the next room.”

“Liam and I don’t think of each other like that,” Zayn insists, and Niall shrugs.

“It still feels weird. And wrong.” Niall takes a deep inhale. “But I love you so much. I’m so _in_ love with you too, Zayn. And this has been three, four years in the making. And I’ve had to keep it bottled up and stored in me for so long and I just want to explode with like fifty different emotions right now and it’s too fucking much for me and--”

“Hey,” Zayn says, rubbing his hands up and down Niall’s arms. “ _Hey_ ,” he repeats, until Niall looks at him. “I’m not going to regret this, y’know. It’s hard for me to make friends and open up to people and I’ve never met someone so easy to get along with as you. I don’t regret anything that just happened and I’m never going to, no matter what happens. And if you want to take it slow, then okay, I get it. But I don’t want there to be absolutely nothing between us, yeah?”

Niall pauses then nods, understanding. Zayn steps closer and waits till Niall exhales to press a soft, chaste kiss onto his lips.

“Now let’s get some sleep,” he murmurs, holding Niall’s hand and getting into the bed for the third time that night, pulling the sheets over the two of them. 

This time, though, they don’t get out of bed till the morning.

 

\------

 

It’s just a few nights later when Louis reaches his breaking point.

The boys are all sat around, Niall and Harry plucking at their guitars, seated side-by-side, with Zayn sitting next to Niall, whispering small praises every minute or so that make Niall blush. Liam’s scribbling in a notebook dutifully, right in the thick of a song, and they’re all so absorbed in their work that no one notices it when Louis stands up and actually _screams_.

Niall can’t be blamed for how high he jumps, almost smashing Zayn in the gut with his guitar, and Harry and Liam both cuss loudly. 

“We need a _break_ ,” Louis says, when everyone’s got their eyes on him. He’s got his hands on his hips. “We’ve been working too hard. We need to go out and get smashed.”

He then walks over and smacks Liam’s notebook out of his hands.

“ _Hey_ ,” Liam whines, and Louis just plops down into his lap. Liam lets out a small _oof_ of surprise but Niall smirks at how his cheeks redden.

“Let’s go clubbing,” Louis demands, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to be budged--literally or figuratively.

Niall thinks about it. It’s a Saturday night, they _have_ been working hard, and he could use a good break. He shrugs. “Sure, I’m in.”

“Alright,” Harry adds. “Me too.”

“Sounds sick,” Zayn agrees, and then they all turn to Liam. Louis does an especially dramatic turn, swiveling around so he’s basically straddling Liam’s lap. He rests his hands on Liam’s shoulders.

“And you, Mr. Payne?” he asks. Harry elbows Niall when Liam turns the pinkest they’ve ever seen him. 

“How could I say no to you?” Liam mutters, managing to smirk, and Louis’ answering smile is wide and excited.

 

They don’t take too long to get ready--well, okay. Maybe they do. Niall, Zayn, and Liam all head over to Zayn’s to get dressed and come back to Harry’s afterwards, but spend a good amount of time at Harry’s actually getting ready for the night. Niall is done first, of course. Liam spends a lot of time on his outfit and so does Louis, while Harry and Zayn take forever to fix up their hair. Niall decides to move things along and sets up a row of tequila shots. He may take one or two before the other boys show up, but he’s Irish. He can handle it.

“Ooh, shots?” Louis says, waltzing over to the kitchen table, with Liam in tow. He hasn’t stopped touching Liam all night, a hand on his shoulder or abs or waist, but Liam doesn’t seem to be complaining. He seems to be endeared, actually, his gaze always on Louis, a wondrous expression on his face. 

“Wait for me!” Harry cries, bounding out of his bedroom and bringing a cloud of cologne with him. Zayn follows behind easily, and Niall’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Sure, he’s got a bit of alcohol in his system, but all it takes is Zayn standing next to him to get him dizzy, and tonight Zayn’s in tight, _tight_ black jeans, a thin white shirt that lets his tattoos show through, and, of course, a fitted leather jacket. His hair’s quiffed up and forward and he smells of the Gucci he’s usually prone to wearing on nights out like this.

“Perfect,” Niall mumbles, and Zayn’s eyes crinkle as he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s sweet but intense, and Niall falls into it happily before he hears Louis clear his throat. 

“Save it for the club, lads,” Louis mumbles, but his eyes are twinkling, obviously happy for them. Niall blushes and Zayn laughs; they’ve been moving kind of slow since the night they hooked up, but they’re definitely a thing now, and Niall’s still amazed at that. He gets to hold Zayn’s hand and kiss him anywhere and anytime and he always gets a surge of butterflies in his stomach whenever he thinks about it.

 

They’re all buzzed by the time they’re walking to the club, Niall’s hand secure in Zayn’s with Harry next to them, Louis and Liam lagging behind. Niall and Harry keep giggling at Louis and Liam’s conversation.

“You think tonight’s going to be the night?” Harry whispers, and Niall shrugs. He certainly hopes Liam and Louis have some fun together, but somewhere in the back of his presently hazy mind, he remembers how adamant Liam was that he’s as straight as can be, so Niall doesn’t know if anything’s really going to happen.

“Where are we going anyway?” Zayn asks, and Louis grins.

“A hot new club. Kind of.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s this gay club, just like five or so minutes away.”

Liam clears his throat. “A gay club?”

The rest of them stop walking and turn to look at him. Liam freezes, eyes darting between the four of them.

“Yes,” Louis says, eyes narrowed but a smirk on his face. “Is that okay with you?”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Liam sputters, smiling. “I was just--just curious, is all. I’ve never, uh. Never been to one.”

“I thought you hooked up with a guy at a club once,” Zayn says, then his eyes widen. “Oops.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Louis says, looking ecstatic. “You _slag_.”

 

The club is hot, humid, and filled to the brim with flashing lights. Once they’ve dropped their coats off, they all shove their way to the bar. 

“Jack and Coke,” Liam asks, then turns to them. “First round’s on me.”

“Beautiful. Long Island iced tea, please,” Louis says, slinging an arm over Liam’s shoulders. 

“What do you want, babe?’ Zayn asks Niall, his breath tickling Niall’s ear. Goosebumps break out over Niall’s skin as he shrugs, even in the heat of the club. 

“Um, gin and tonic?” he asks, and the bartender nods.

“White Russian,” Zayn says, sticking his hand into Niall’s back pocket. He gives Niall’s arse a little squeeze and Niall flushes pink, his dick perking up in interest. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Zayn, who hides a smile in the curve of Niall’s neck.

“Sex on the Beach,” Harry finishes, smiling at the guy taking their order, and then gives him a wink. “And your number, if that’s available.”

The man rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, obviously unable to resist Harry’s dimples. Liam gives the two of them a weird look.

“Is it--is that, like. Okay?” he asks, looking at Louis. Louis shrugs.

“I don’t see why not. Are you uncomfortable with Haz shagging some guy?”

“No, well-- _I’m_ not, I just thought--”

“Jack and Coke?” a girl says, sliding Liam his drink. “And a Long Island.”

“Thanks, love,” Louis replies, taking a large gulp of his drink and then screwing up his face, making Liam and Niall laugh.

They all work at their drinks for a while, Louis keeping Liam entertained while Niall and Zayn kind of sway together to the music around them. Harry’s still chatting up the guy at the bar, but he’s the one who suggests a round of shots for his turn.

“Blow Jobs!” Louis cries, and Liam chokes on his drink. Louis laughs and rubs a hand over his back as Liam coughs. “Relax. It’s just a shot. We’ll get to the real stuff later.”

“I--what?” Liam asks, but Louis ignores him as someone lines up five shot glasses and pours the liqueurs into them, topping them off with whipped cream. Liam goes to pick a glass up with his hand but all the other boys yell, “No!” at the same time.

“Um,” Liam says, placing his glass down.

“Silly boy,” Louis says. “Hazza, can you demonstrate proper Blow Job technique?”

Harry smirks at Louis, winks at Liam, and then turns to the guy he’s been talking to and licks his lips, holding his hands behind his back as he bends down and fits his lips around the shot glass. Niall has seen Harry do this so many times before but strangers’ reactions are the best, and he watches how the bartender’s eyes trace Harry’s pink, stretched-out mouth. Harry lifts his head up, downing the shot, then drops the glass back on the bar, licking his lips and grinning at the guy.

“Oh,” Liam says, then Louis grins.

“Who’s next?”

“Race ya,” Niall murmurs to Zayn, then makes his way up to the bar, Zayn laughing and right behind him. They clasp their hands behind their backs and take their respective shots, Zayn pulling Niall in for a deep kiss right afterwards, one that tastes of sugar and cream. 

By the time they break apart, it looks like Louis’ already taken his shot, if Liam’s face is any indicator. Liam gets into position then and ducks down, taking the glass into his mouth. Niall _swears_ he hears Louis gasp at Liam’s mouth and throat as he swallows the drink down, then slams the glass back on the bar, shuddering a bit at the burn of the shot.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters, as Liam licks his lips. He finishes the rest of his iced tea then grabs Liam’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

“Good idea,” Zayn says, finishing his drink, and Niall does the same. He feels giddy as Zayn pulls him into the throng of dancers--this is like every single wet dream he’s had, being this close and loose-limbed with Zayn at a club, their hands all over each other. 

Zayn definitely doesn’t disappoint--he pulls Niall in immediately, pressing their mouths together and sliding his tongue alongside Niall’s. As they snog he slowly presses his thigh in between Niall’s and grinds into him, moving Niall along with a hand on his back so that Niall grinds back. It’s hot and it’s close and Niall’s head is spinning by the time he and Zayn break away for air, Zayn’s hands moving to his hips. 

“Feel okay?” he asks, looking concerned, and Niall’s heart skips a beat as he realizes that Zayn wants to make sure that Niall won’t freak out again, that he’s okay with this. Niall clears his throat.

“Feel _so_ good, Zayn,” Niall breathes, right into Zayn’s ear, and feels Zayn shudder underneath him and groan as he pulls Niall closer. Niall can feel how hard Zayn is and knows that Zayn can feel Niall’s cock against his leg, too, but they just continue to grind on each other right there, on the dance floor, with a hundred strangers around them. They kiss, each press of lips more intense than the last, and Niall’s never really thought of himself as one for exhibitionism, but he’d gladly let Zayn stick his hand down his pants right now. 

“Niall,” Zayn groans, biting at his ear lobe. Niall moans in reply. “Fuck, I’m gonna come just like this.”

“We need to--need to stop making this a habit for you,” Niall breathes, pressing his palm against the sweat-damp skin of Zayn’s neck. “You should come in my mouth instead,” he mutters, before he really thinks about what he’s said, and feels Zayn freeze up for a moment before pulling Niall even closer.

“Shit. _Shit_ ,” Zayn says, scraping his teeth against Niall’s neck. “You sure? Want my cock in your mouth, babe?”

And Niall preens, pressing small kisses against Zayn’s warm mouth. There’s absolutely nothing more he wants right now. He pulls away from Zayn and then grabs his hand, pulling him out of the crowd and into the closest bathroom he can find. It’s definitely not the first time he’s hooked up in a loo but it’s the first time he’s been this excited about it, because it’s _Zayn_ he’s with. He turns to look in the mirror when they step under the bright fluorescent light, and laughs at how utterly debauched he and Zayn look. Zayn’s careful hairstyle has been combed through a million times by Niall’s fingers by now, and Niall’s neck is littered with love bites he doesn’t even remember receiving.

“We look good,” Zayn says, sliding his hands around Niall’s waist. He moves one hand lower, cupping Niall through his pants lightly. He gives Niall a small squeeze and Niall gasps, moving them over to an empty stall and pushing Zayn inside, locking the door behind them.

Someone had the very kind idea of making sure the doors of the stalls are only a few centimeters from the ground, so no one can really make out when people are fucking around in them, which--okay, maybe that was the point. Niall’s thankful as he drops to his knees, though, thankful also for the fact that he doesn’t have a bum knee anymore. He unbuttons Zayn’s trousers and then unzips them, moaning at the sight of Zayn tenting his pants, a large, dark, wet spot spreading out over the material. He leans up close and wraps his lips around that very mark and sucks, hard, making Zayn’s hips buck up off the wall.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Zayn slurs, and Niall pulls down his bottoms and pants until Zayn’s cock is out, right in front of him, thick and leaking and _begging_ to be touched. “Niall,” Zayn whispers, almost reverently, as Niall kisses the tip of his length and then takes him into his mouth, moaning as he feels the heavy weight of Zayn on his tongue. He swirls his tongue around, then, tasting Zayn’s precome and blushing as Zayn murmurs praise above him, carding his fingers through Niall’s wilting quiff. 

Niall pulls off and rubs his palm over the tip of Zayn’s cock, gathering precome and making Zayn’s knees buckle before he slides his hand down Zayn’s dick again, slicking it up. He keeps jacking Zayn off but takes the first few inches in his mouth again--mentally cursing his ridiculously sensitive gag reflex--sucking hard and fast, his cheeks hollowed out. He looks up and watches Zayn watch him, amazed, hips slowly moving forward as he gets closer and closer to orgasm.

“‘M gonna come, babe,” Zayn whines, and then does just that, spurting into Niall’s mouth a minute or so later. Niall doesn’t pull off until he’s sure he’s swallowed everything he can, letting Zayn’s softening cock fall out of his mouth, a single strand of spit breaking off as he licks his lips and looks up at Zayn and smiles.

Zayn doesn’t waste any time pulling Niall back up and pushing him against the opposite wall, prying his mouth open so he can taste himself on Niall’s tongue. They pull apart and Niall tucks Zayn back in before Zayn grins and says, “My turn.”

He turns Niall around and presses up behind him so they’re facing the toilet, then unbuttons Niall’s jeans and slips his hand into his boxers, sliding his fingers around Niall’s cock. Niall’s head falls back onto Zayn’s shoulders, unable to do anything but moan--hopefully softly enough so that nobody else in the bathroom notices--as Zayn works him over, pressing kisses to the marks he’s already left on Niall’s skin. 

It doesn’t take long for Niall to feel his orgasm creep up on him, and he only has time to mutter out a warning before Zayn tugs his cock out and jacks him off, fast, bending him over a bit so that his dick’s right over the toilet bowl. Zayn grinds up against him and the position is exactly like what it would be if Zayn was fucking him and that sends Niall over the edge, yelping as he comes into the basin. Zayn doesn’t stop until Niall hisses at the oversensitivity and then he helps Niall up again, kissing him softly as he tucks him back in and then flushes the toilet.

“Fuck,” Niall mumbles, as Zayn laughs and keeps kissing him. They make out for what must be another five or ten minutes before they finally hear a noise, someone else making it into the bathroom and pulling at the door of the stall.

“‘S locked,” a strangely familiar voice says. “Oops.”

Then they hear someone else giggling as the two people stumble into the stall next to them and lock the door. There’s some moans and groans before a very audible, “Fuck me, Liam,” before Niall and Zayn’s eyes widen and they jump out of the stall and out of the loo, back into the heat and thumping music of the club. Niall can’t stop laughing and Zayn looks amazed.

“Fuck,” he mutters, smirking. He turns to Niall. “‘M gonna smoke, wanna come?” he asks, as if Niall will ever say no to spending time with him. Niall nods eagerly and they make their way to an exit door. A burly looking man stamps their hands before they leave and they stumble outside into the nippy air. Zayn leans up against the brick wall and lights a cigarette and Niall settles himself right next to him, leaning a head on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad we did this,” he says, looking up at Zayn. Zayn smiles at him.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, not just this--” Niall gestures between the two of them, “but this, too,” he adds, motioning to the club behind them. “I think we all needed it.”

Zayn hums agreeably and they stand out there for a few more minutes as Zayn finishes his cigarette, Niall watching how the smoke he blows out curls into the sky.

“We should find the rest of the lads,” Niall says. 

“At least we know where two of them are.” Zayn adds, smirking. Niall laughs.

It’s mostly quiet after that until Zayn’s grinding his stub out against the brick and they hear someone let out a very loud moan not too far away. Niall looks over past a few not-so-well-positioned garbage bins and sees a familiar head of brown curls pressed against a wall, moaning out loud as someone else fucks up into his hips from behind. Niall turns to Zayn, beaming.

“Well, I think we just found the third.”

 

They manage to get all the boys together within the next half-hour or so, and by the time they meet in front of the club, they all look at each other cautiously, taking in their bitten lips, bruised necks, and rumpled clothing.

“So...we all pulled tonight?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam blushes and Louis looks mighty smug. Zayn has to turn into Niall to stop himself from laughing. 

“I’d say tonight was an overwhelming success,” Louis says, smiling cockily and bumping his hip into Liam, who’s frowning at the ground so hard, he doesn’t even try to fight back. Niall catches Louis’ smile flicker a bit and feels his own heart drop.

“Back to our flats, then?” he asks, and they all move along towards the direction of their buildings, though the good mood’s kind of died down a bit. Niall hopes Zayn can sense the tension that’s built up, and by the way Zayn squeezes Niall’s hand comfortingly, he does.

Harry, however, seems oblivious to what’s going on, and keeps chattering away about the guy he’d hooked up with, how fit he is, how he’s got his number, how he might be able to play a set at the club sometime soon. Niall tries to laugh along at the right parts, but keeps noticing how Liam looks more and more frustrated with each word out of Harry’s mouth, while Louis looks more and more afraid with every step away from him that Liam takes.

It’s about near where they have to split up that Liam finally breaks.

“Don’t you have _any_ fucking decency, Harry?” he asks, kind of bursting out of nowhere, and Harry shuts up immediately, blinking at Liam, confused.

“I--what?”

“Just ranting on and on about some random, faceless shag you had? Don’t you think some people don’t want to hear about that shit?”

Harry turns stony-faced and looks pissed as hell. Niall’s rarely seen his own Harry this mad, but it’s a testament to how different this universe is when Harry steps forward into Liam’s space, poking a finger into his chest.

“I’m so sick and fucking tired of hearing you spout homophobic shit before you turn around and suck another guy’s cock, Liam,” Harry says. “Why can’t you just admit that you might just like guys?”

“I don’t,” Liam says, his tone so sure that Louis’ expression completely falls. Harry must see it because he looks absolutely _furious_ then.

“Well then tell your dick that, because I think it’s a bit confused, you fucking prick,” he spits, shoving Liam back a bit before grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling them down the street towards his flat. Niall, Zayn, and Liam watch him go in silence.

“Fuck,” Liam says, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, this whole night was a mistake, I--I can’t believe I was--” he starts to take ragged breaths, his shoulders shaking and Niall instantly recognizes that he’s beginning to cry. He mumbles through a few more phrases. “--and cheating and--and fucking around and it’s not _okay_ , I--”

“Liam, it’s okay,” Zayn says, moving to throw an arm around the boy. Niall moves to his other side and together they walk towards Zayn’s flat. “I think--you need some water, babe. And then we’ll get you to bed, okay? We can talk about this tomorrow.”

That, for some reason, just brings on a fresh wave of tears for Liam, who starts sobbing so loudly that some random passerby give Niall and Zayn concerned looks. Niall smiles sadly at them and hopes they get the message.

 

When they’ve got Liam to drink two glasses of water, they tuck him into the sofa bed and walk silently back to Zayn’s room.

“What a night,” Zayn mutters, peeling off his shirt, then his trousers, then his pants, in quick succession. He turns to Niall, eyeing him curiously. “You gonna join me in the shower, or…?”

“Oh!” Niall says, shedding his clothes quickly before following Zayn into his bathroom. He watches the bones of Zayn’s spine as Zayn puts the hot water on, smiling at the boy when he turns around and pulls Niall into the tub.

“What a night,” Niall repeats, letting the hot water fall over him. It feels like a blessing and suddenly he feels overwhelmingly tired, the stress and spent energy sweeping over him. He stands there and lets Zayn soap him up and then rinse him off, doing the same for Zayn afterwards. They dry themselves off and crawl into bed naked, snuggling under the covers.

“We need to have a band meeting tomorrow,” Zayn mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep. Niall yawns.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles, his eyes closing, his arms wrapped around Zayn’s waist. They fall asleep like that, tangled up with each other, the warm vanilla scent of Zayn’s bodywash lulling them to sleep.

 

\------

 

They don’t see Harry and Louis for a week, and Niall’s never been this anxious before. This clawing, panicked feeling, one about the band breaking up, has always been his worst nightmare, but now it’s like they’re breaking up before even being an actual band and it’s terrible. Niall’s chewed his nails down to the nub by now and is about ready to pull out his hair, too.

“This is ridiculous,” Zayn announces, hands on his hips, watching Niall pace around the flat while Liam flips through every channel available on Zayn’s telly. Liam’s been strangely quiet this whole week, not really speaking much at all, constantly checking his phone and staring out into the window like a sad puppy. “We need to talk to Harry and Louis.”

“No,” Liam mumbles, and Zayn raises an eyebrow. Liam blushes. “I--I feel bad, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t.”

“Liam these guys are your friends. They’ll get it,” Niall assures him, desperate to get all five boys back together again. “I think they’re mostly mad at you for sounding like a bigot.”

Liam flushes red. “That’s not what I was talking about, I was--”

“Hush!” Zayn cries, picking up his phone and pressing some buttons. “Save this for the meeting. I’m calling Louis now, I--hello?” he says, sounding surprised that someone picked up. “Lou? It’s Zayn. Yeah, I’m okay. You doing alright? Good. Look, listen, we need to meet up. Now.” Zayn pauses, rolling his eyes. “No, you don’t have to worry about Liam. He’s, uh,” Zayn stops and cocks his head, smirking at Liam. “He’s gone back to Wolverhampton.”

Niall blinks slowly at Zayn and Liam looks offended, but Zayn continues talking, hanging up a minute or so later.

“Okay. They’ll be here in a half hour.”

“And what am _I_ supposed to do when they come?” Liam pouts.

Zayn grins at him. “Hide.”

 

“I missed you two,” Harry mumbles, as he draws Zayn and Niall into a hug when he arrives. “And I miss Liam too, even though I’m still fucking pissed at him.”

“Understandable,” Zayn replies, smacking a kiss onto Louis’ forehead. “How’s my favorite troublemaker?”

“Chainsmoking,” Harry answers, giving Louis a very pointed look. Louis flips Harry off.

“I’m okay,” Louis says, shrugging. “Just hate being rejected, is all. Especially when I never saw it coming.”

Niall has a suspicious feeling that Louis is sadder than he’s letting on, but he doesn’t say anything, watching Harry and Louis sit down on the couch.

“So what do we do now?” Harry asks, sighing. “Liam’s not here, I don’t think we can go ahead and do this like we planned. We need him to make this work.”

“Oh. Well, funny story, that,” Zayn says, walking off and appearing a moment later with a very sullen-looking Liam, pulled out of the bedroom he’d been hiding away in by his collar.

“Zayn, what the _fuck_ ,” Louis says, standing up and walking over to the apartment door. He’s flushed red and Niall jumps up to stop him.

“No, you guys. We need to talk this out, no matter how awkward it is.” He puts his hands on Louis’ shoulders, turning him around and sitting him back next to Harry. 

Louis looks like he’s going to protest but it’s Liam who speaks first, clearing his throat loudly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I never meant to get between the two of you,” he says, motioning between Harry and Louis, who give each other surprised looks, “and I know how much you guys love each other and I was drunk, which I know is no excuse, but Louis is just so _handsy_ and I never meant to like, get so caught up in everything and--fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Niall blinks at Liam. _What_? Harry and Louis look at each other again, Harry looking thoroughly amused and Louis looking like he’s going to shit his pants with excitement. Zayn looks confused, though, glancing between everyone in the room.

Liam, however, looks thoroughly panicked, as if his apology isn’t enough, and starts speaking again. 

“Liam--” Louis starts, slowly, but Liam interrupts him.

“And--I lied. I--” he bites his lip. “I do like guys. And girls. I don’t know, it’s so confusing, but Louis, I never meant to hurt your feelings, what we did, it--I _really_ liked it, I never meant to hurt your feelings that way either--” Liam stutters, blushing. Louis _beams_ , his smile stretching so wide that it looks like his cheeks are probably hurting. 

“Liam,” Harry tries this time, and holds up a hand before Liam can interrupt him. Harry smirks. “Louis and I aren’t together.”

Liam turns the reddest Niall’s ever seen him, blinking furiously at Harry. “What?” he squeaks out, and Louis bites his lip, still smiling.

“I mean, we’ve slept together-- _once_ \--but we’re not--like, y’know,” he motions between the two of them. “Together.”

“I--” Liam stutters, looking like he’d like the earth to open up and swallow him whole at this point. “You--”

Louis must decide to put Liam out of his misery, because he stands up and walks over easily, placing his arms around Liam’s neck.

“You like me?” he asks, quietly, though there’s no real need to be, since everyone in the room is dead silent, focused on the two of them. Liam gulps and Niall sees his eyes dart between Louis’ before he nods, slowly. Louis smiles again, sliding his hands down and cupping Liam’s face before pulling him in for a soft, slow kiss. It’s deep and thorough and fairly intimate, so Niall looks away out of respect, catching Zayn’s eye and smirking at him. Zayn smiles back and clears his throat, making Louis whine and pull away from a very flustered Liam.

“Maybe we should, uh. Have that meeting now.”

“You have _terrible_ timing,” Louis mumbles, but plops back down on the couch anyways, pulling Liam down next to him and shifting so that Louis’ essentially in his lap. But Liam definitely doesn’t seem to be complaining. He just looks flummoxed, yet immensely pleased.

“So,” Zayn starts, clapping his hands together. “We’re a big gay boyband now.”

“Good for us,” Harry says, grinning. 

“I just--I want to make sure no one else has any more sexuality crises while we’re here?” Zayn says, glancing between all of them. “I mean, I’m bisexual--I guess Liam is too--and we know that Niall and Louis are gay, so--” he turns to Harry, questioning. Harry just shrugs.

“I mean, does it matter?”

“Not really, I guess, I was just. Curious,” Zayn says carefully, and Harry smiles.

“I guess I’m pan. Never really thought too much about it, but yeah.” He places a hand on his chest and closes his eyes, looking emotional. “Hearts, not parts.”

Louis snorts and Harry swats at him until he whines and pouts at Liam.

“You’re supposed to _protect_ me, Liam.”

“Yeah, but you deserved that, probably.”

Louis scoffs and Zayn rolls his eyes. “Guys,” he scolds them, teasingly. “But really. Are we, all, like. Okay now? No more hiccups between us? Got all the fights out and everything?”

The five of them all look around at each other, as if one of them is going to jump up and call someone out, which is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone looks comfortable and calm, happy, with love in their eyes, and it’s--it’s so familiar, finally something that Niall recognizes immediately, so he can’t help the bright smile that shows up on his face.

“Brilliant,” he declares, at the same time that Louis sits up and says, “We should go out tonight.”

“Yes, because last time went _so_ well,” Harry says sarcastically, and Louis leans forward, aiming to punch Harry in the crotch, an attack that Harry easily blocks.

“I mean it. A bit less intense this time, though. Maybe just a pub? Get some drinks in us?”

Niall sighs, putting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, all right,” he says, after a moment of contemplation. This really should test how good their dynamic is right now and if there is any more dirty laundry to air. “But no sex at the pub.”

Louis frowns. “How _dare_ you,” he hisses, as Liam grins and tucks his face into Louis’ neck. It’s cute and definitely not something that Louis’ expecting, as is obvious by the way he freezes up and then relaxes into Liam’s warmth. There’s a small smile on his face now and Niall can’t help but to wink at him, getting a solid middle finger as a reply.

“Are drinks the only thing we want in us?” Zayn says, holding up a bag of weed. “Wait, shit. That was terribly phrased.” He frowns. “No dick jokes, Louis.”

Louis, who had perked up when Zayn had started talking, now physically deflates and grumbles, turning into Liam, practically wrapping his limbs around the other boy. “No one lets me have any fun,” he mumbles, and Liam looks overwhelmingly endeared as he rubs Louis’ back comfortingly. 

 

An hour later though, they’re definitely having fun, the five of them blazed out of their minds, trying to get their shit together to head out to the pub.

“Shit, where’re my keys? Shit,” Zayn mutters. Niall laughs at him and then doesn’t stop laughing for another two minutes, Zayn looking at him fondly the whole time. 

“Fuck,” Niall slurs, leaning forward and resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m this high. My tolerance here must be shit.”

“Wait till we get outside, babe, you’ll feel better,” Zayn assures him, finally finding his keys--which just happened to be in his hand--and opening the door of the apartment. “We basically hotboxed my flat.”

The other boys stumble out after them, Liam the most sober of them all, only having done a hit or two. He’d seemed more entertained by watching Louis get more and more touchy-feely as he smoked, giggly and pliant, his eyes not leaving Liam once in the past half hour.

“I think,” Harry starts, licking his lips and smiling at the lot of them. He doesn’t say anything until they’ve all made it out of the apartment building and into the crisp night air. “Oh! Shit, was I saying something?” he asks, and Niall breaks into a fit of laughter again, joined this time by Zayn as well.

“Stop it,” Harry whines. He pouts and leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. For once, though, Louis pays him no attention, his eyes focused on Liam’s face, fingers playing with Liam’s scruff. He seems to be whispering things into Liam’s ears too, which must be increasingly dirty with the way that Liam’s cheeks are pinking up.

“This isn’t _fair_ ,” Harry cries, suddenly, stomping his foot on the ground like a toddler. “Now I’m alone and everyone’s partnered up.”

“Hush now,” Zayn says, his voice calming, pulling Harry into his side. “We’ll find someone fit for you to hook up with tonight.”

“Thanks, Zayn,” Harry mumbles, now leaning his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “You’re my favorite.”

“Duh,” Zayn answers, winking at Niall over Harry’s curls.

 

By the time they make it to the pub, they’ve all sobered up a bit, which is comforting for Niall, who doesn’t really like being high and drunk at the same time in public. The place is as crowded as one would expect an establishment like this to be on a weekend night, but they all shoulder their way through the crowd and manage to grab a booth right as another group leaves.

“Score!” Louis says, then pulls Liam up just as he sits down. “Stop it, we have to get pints for everyone, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Liam confirms, smirking at the other three but letting Louis lead him to the bar. Niall sighs.

“They’re totally going to do it in the loo, aren’t they?” he asks, defeated. Harry giggles.

“I’m surprised you even tried to stop them,” he answers, then stands up pulls Zayn along. “C’mon, favorite, let’s _actually_ go and get the drinks.”

“All right, all right,” Zayn mutters, shifting out of the booth. He presses a quick kiss to Niall’s cheek, though. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Too late,” Niall answers, and Zayn smiles at him before he and Harry disappear into the crowd. 

Niall tries his hardest to avoid the eyes of all the people that give him dirty looks for being the only one in such a large booth, but smiles at them politely if their gazes do meet. He notices one group of guys in a far corner really eyeing him up, though, and does his best to not even glance in that direction. Zayn and Harry show up soon after, however, thankfully, but look thoroughly wilted. 

“The crowd here is ridiculous,” Zayn sighs, setting five pints on the table. “At least we managed to get some drinks, though. Cheers, babe,” he says, picking up a glass and clinking it against Niall’s before taking a long sip. Niall takes a moment to appreciate the color of Zayn’s lips as he licks the foam off of them before taking a drink from his own cup.

“If Louis and Liam don’t show up soon, I’m drinking theirs too,” Harry warns, already halfway through his. Niall laughs.

“Drinking our what?” Louis’ voice calls, and then he and Liam show up, five pints in hand. “ _Hey_ ,” Louis whines. “ _We_ were supposed to get the drinks.”

“We couldn’t wait till you guys had finished fucking,” Harry comments, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Liam starts coughing uncontrollably and Louis rolls his eyes. “For your information--” he says tersely, slamming the glasses on the table with a bit more force than necessary, “we didn’t fuck. We obeyed Niall’s rule.”

“Barely,” Liam mumbles, and Louis smacks him on the arm as the other guys start laughing.

 

The night progresses fairly smoothly after that, the five of them just talking and laughing and being idiots like he remembers. It’s all pretty chill until a familiar-looking girl walks up to their booth.

Niall’s currently sitting with Zayn’s arm slung over his shoulder, in a way that probably makes the nature of their relationship very obvious, so he has to turn a little bit when he hears someone speak.

“Harry?” a voice asks, and Niall’s eyes widen as he sees Ruby, the girl from that one building at the University of London, standing in front of him. But she’s not talking to Harry, she’s talking to Niall, and it takes him a second to realize why--he’d told her his name was Harry. Shit.

“Um,” he starts, but Harry speaks before Niall can.

“That’s me. How can I help you, love?”

Ruby blinks at Harry, giving him an obvious once-over, then shakes her head. “No, I was talking to this Harry,” she replies, pointing at Niall. Everyone at the table turns to look at him.

“Um,” he says again, clearing his throat. “Hi, Ruby.”

Ruby smiles at him and she’s clearly a bit tipsy, but from the way she’s standing and twirling her hair, it’s fairly obvious why she approached the table. Niall feels Zayn tense up next to him and has to bite back his smile. Zayn’s fucking _jealous_ , oh my god.

“Do you want to dance, or something?” she asks, biting her lip. Niall glances over at Zayn, whose jaw is clenched tight, and then his gaze manages to slip over to Harry, who seems to be absolutely floored by the girl in front of him, unable to take his eyes off her for a second. Okay, Niall can work with this.

Before he can speak, though, he hears Zayn clear his throat. “Actually, hun, he’s taken,” he says, giving her a the most bitchy smile afterwards, and Niall has to try his hardest not to laugh. Louis doesn’t even attempt to hold in his snort and Liam’s smirking too.

“Oh,” Ruby says, clearly disappointed. "That's why you never called me, yeah?" she pouts, waving goodbye at Niall and looking thoroughly defeated, and she's about to walk away when Niall pipes up.

“But,” he says, nodding towards Harry. “The other Harry over here is free to dance. Or something.”

Ruby looks towards Harry again and doesn’t seem too impressed--Louis looks ready to piss himself at this point--until Harry stands up and pushes his hair off his face. He’s tall enough to still tower over her when she’s in her heels and his shirt is unbuttoned low enough to show off his abs. He gives her a charming smile and Niall can tell the exact moment that Ruby’s smitten by the way her eyes can’t leave Harry’s deep dimples.

“Buy you a drink?” he suggests, and she nods, a bit amazed, hooking her arm through his and letting him walk her to the bar.

“Horan, you wingman, you,” Louis says, laughing. “Maybe that’ll stop Harry’s whining for the night.”

Niall winks at Louis then turns to Zayn. “You okay, then?”

“Me?” Zayn asks, his voice a bit high-pitched. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Just some cute bird coming over and flirting with my boyfriend--” Niall’s stomach flutters at that word, “--while I’m sat right here. I can’t--” Zayn continues, but Niall cuts him off, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Zayn sighs into it and shifts so that he can hold Niall’s face, deepening the kiss and turning it dirty and possessive fast. There’s a lot of lip biting and teeth clashing and Niall is sure people are staring at them now but he doesn’t even care, too lost in Zayn’s arms. 

By the time they finally break apart, they’re panting and Niall’s face is burning hot, but Zayn looks thoroughly pleased, licking his lips. Louis starts a slow clap from the other end of the table and Zayn throws a crumpled-up napkin at him. 

“That was pretty hot, to be honest,” Louis mutters, and Liam gives him a curious look. “Think we can give ‘em a run for their money?”

“Didn’t we already? In the loo?” Liam asks, then laughs as Louis groans and presses his face into his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Louis mumbles.

“Speaking of the loo,” Niall says, sliding out of the booth. “I need to pay it a visit.” He kind of hobbles off his seat, a bit buzzed, then walks in the direction of the toilets. There’s not much of a line, surprisingly, so Niall just heads inside, walking up to a urinal and relieving himself. It’s just as he’s finished, tucking himself back into his pants and turning around to head to the sink, that he bumps into a someone tall and broad-shouldered.

“Whoops, sorry, mate,” he mumbles, walking past them and washing his hands. He waves his hands under the air dryer for a bit then just wipes them on his pants, turning to leave the bathroom, but the exit’s been blocked by two other blokes, arms crossed, giving him stern looks. 

“Um,” Niall says, turning back to face the man he’d bumped into. He looks familiar and Niall suddenly places him as one of the guys who’d been glaring at him when he was sitting alone at the booth. “Sorry, can I, like. Exit the loo?”

“Why’re you acting like you don’t know who I am, Niall?” The guy says, narrowing his eyes. Niall blinks at him. Does he know this guy? He seems only a few years older than Niall himself, with a face that looks like it’s been weathered by hard times and dark, thick eyebrows that seem to be permanently angled downwards.

“Because I...don’t...know you?” Niall tries, but it must be the wrong answer, because the guy drags him by the collar and pushes him up against the wall.

“You left me so soon, Nialler…” the man whispers, dragging a finger slowly up and down Niall’s jaw. “Didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye.”

“What--” Niall tries, but his throat feels dry and choked; he can’t seem to get a word out.

“Then I had to watch you kissing that fucking paki just meters away from me…what were you trying to do, tempt me?” The man presses close, far too close for comfort. “Because you got my attention.”

“I don’t--” Niall finally says. “I don’t know you. I--please, just let me go--”

The man pauses, eyes dragging up and down Niall’s panicked, worried face. Then he smiles, slowly licking his lips. “Nah,” he says, leaning close enough for Niall to smell his alcohol-tinged breath. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Yo!” a voice shouts, and Louis is suddenly bursting through the bathroom door, pushing past the startled guys blocking the exit. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Fuck off, poof,” the guy says. “Mind your own fuckin’ business.”

“Watch your mouth,” Liam says, appearing behind Louis. That makes the guy ease off a bit, his hold going slack, but not enough for Niall to run away. The guy narrows his eyes.

“I’ll take care of Niall now. He’s back where he needs to be.”

“Niall, who is this clown?” Louis asks, giving the guy a scathing once-over. The guy looks at Niall expectedly.

“I have no fucking idea,” Niall admits, and the guy almost looks heartbroken and worried for a second before he’s furious again, tightening his grip on Niall’s shoulder.

“You can keep saying that you don’t know me, but that’s not going to make you actually forget me,” he whispers, and Niall feels a surge of panic run through him before the pressure on his shoulder is suddenly off him. He blinks at the empty air in front of him and turns to see Zayn, who’s somehow managed to shove the older guy entirely off of Niall.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand cupping Niall’s face, and Niall nods right as Louis shouts Zayn’s name. Zayn ducks, quickly, barely avoiding the punch the guy throws, but the two guys in front of the exit move forward and grab Zayn by an arm each, holding him in place.

“No--” Niall cries, but Liam moves first, slamming into the guy, knocking him down onto the ground, then throwing the most complex and impressive series of punches to the guys restraining Zayn until all three of the strangers are on the ground, either knocked out or writhing in pain. Liam stands in the middle of the loo, panting, flexing his fingers.

“Holy shit,” Louis says, amazed, and grabs Liam by the arm. “Holy _shit_.”

“We should get out of here,” Liam mutters, pulling Niall towards him, who in turn grabs Zayn, and the leave the bathroom like that, walking out in a chain, arms interlocked.

It’s almost comical how the first person they run into is Harry, apparently on his way to use the bathroom.

“Oops, I--oh. Hey,” he says, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. His shirt’s a bit wrinkled, as if it’s been hastily untucked and then tucked in again, and his throat is sporting some suspicious marks. The smile slowly slides off his face as he takes in the state of the other four boys, though. “Shit. What happened?”

“We need to leave.” Liam restates, walking them all out of the pub. 

“But I--” Harry starts, then looks bummed as he silently follows Liam and the others out. Once they’re outside, he pouts. “I was about to pull.”

“Don’t worry, I have her number, I can give it to you,” Niall says automatically, as if everything’s normal. The group’s silent for a minute before Louis clears his throat.

“Okay, so are we going to pretend like what just happened in the toilets _didn’t_ happen? Because I just learned that my boyfriend is like, fucking Superman, or some shit, and I am _very_ interested in discussing this.”

Liam blushes at Louis’ blatant use of the word ‘boyfriend’ but shakes his head. “I can--I learned to fight when I was young, because I was bullied a lot and stuff, but I don’t like to. It doesn’t make me feel good at all, and I know if I’d stayed there I could’ve gotten arrested or something and I don’t want to risk that.” He turns to Niall. “But yes, we should talk about this.”

Zayn hasn’t said anything yet, but his grip on Niall hasn’t loosened, and his cheeks are still blazing with anger. Niall sighs and rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Yeah, okay.”

 

“My mother told me, before I came here, that I’d been in London before.” Niall says, later, when they’re all back at Zayn’s flat. “She says I got involved in some really shitty stuff and she was afraid it’d happen again, so--I guess that’s what that guy was a part of.”

“Wait, what did you say this guy looked like again?” Harry asks, reaching for Zayn’s laptop and logging into Facebook. He types a name in and turns the computer to show the rest of the guys. “Was it him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis says, looking up at Harry, confused. The guy’s name is on the screen, Justin Hamm. “You’re friends with this prick?”

Harry scowls. “Hell no,” he says. “But we have some mutual friends. Justin’s a local dealer, like. Prescription drugs and stuff. He’s involved in some really nasty shit, though, I know a dude who filed a restraining order against him because they dated once and this guy--aggressive internalized homophobia. Hurt the shit out of my friend, but managed to weasel his way out of going to jail.”

“I think we used to date,” Niall admits, and feels Zayn go stiff beside him. “I don’t--I don’t remember anything of my life here before I switched bodies or whatever, but. When my mam spoke to me she said something and it seemed like I came back to Ireland to get clean, or something. And this guy--Justin--talked to me like we’d been _together_ before, y’know, like he knew me really well.”

“I can’t--” Zayn says, suddenly, standing up and shaking his head, storming out of the room and into his bedroom, locking the door. Everyone is silent for a moment, surprised.

“Well,” Louis says. “You know that he won’t hurt you ever again, thanks to my boyfriend, Clark Kent.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Liam scolds, but Niall smiles, because it’s true. He’s never felt safer than when he’s been with these five boys and what he told Maura ages ago hasn’t changed--these boys are _good_ , and they’re good people too; they’d never let anything bad happen to him.

“I know,” he says, and Liam gives him a small smile back. 

“Man, why does shit like this always happen every time we go out?” Harry mutters, stretching out in his chair.

“Tell me about it,” Louis mumbles, standing up and cracking his back. He puts his hands on his hips and turns to Niall. “You should talk to Zayn.”

Niall nods, and Louis claps his hands together. “Meanwhile, I am burnt out beyond belief, so I think it’s a good idea for us three to get home,” he says, motioning to himself, Liam, and Harry. “So you can talk to Zayn,” he adds, and Niall rolls his eyes.

“I _know_.”

“I’m just making sure,” Louis says, hands up. “Now let’s leave these two alone, yeah? Call us later, though.” Louis leans down and kisses the top of Niall’s head. Liam gives him a smile and Harry ruffles his hair.

“Let us know if you want to talk,” Harry adds. “But Louis is right. I know what Justin’s like, and his ego--and his arse--are too bruised now for him to ever try to mess around with you--with _us_ \--ever again.”

“Thank you,” Niall says gratefully, and watches the three of them file out of the apartment. He locks the door behind them and then takes a deep breath, walking over to Zayn’s door and knocking on it lightly.

“Zayn?” he calls, and it takes a minute, but he hears the door unlock and he steps inside the room. Zayn walks back to the bed and lays down, staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head.

“I keep thinking about all the ways I could kill him,” Zayn says, and Niall bites his lip, shutting the door behind him. “I keep thinking of how he touched you, the things he was saying to you--”

“None of it matters anymore,” Niall assures him, but Zayn shakes his head.

“He _hurt_ you, Niall. He destroyed your life. Just the fact that anyone’s done that _ever_ makes me want to kill them. I’m sorry, I couldn’t just sit around and listen to the things he put you through, I had to get away from that.”

“Hey,” Niall says softly, crawling onto the bed and laying down next to Zayn, but on his side, propped up on his elbow. “It’s okay. I’m glad you care that much, honestly.”

Zayn swallows hard, blinking fast, and Niall can tell he’s about to cry. “Of course I care, Niall, I--” he turns his head to look at Niall, his voice cracking. “I love you. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t even bear the thought of you ever getting hurt or being sad or--or anything bad. I just--I want to see you happy. I just want to make you smile. All the time.”

And Niall--Niall’s heart must explode, because he remembers Zayn saying those words to him before, but it was in another world, in another way. But here, laying in Zayn’s bed, with Zayn pouring his heart out to Niall, these words mean so much more, hold so much promise.

Zayn loves Niall. And it’s all Niall’s ever wanted.

“I love you too,” Niall whispers, leaning down and running a finger across Zayn’s cheekbone, feeling Zayn’s eyes flutter shut by the way his eyelashes brush against Niall’s cheeks. Niall presses his lips to Zayn’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, and then, finally, to his lips, letting all his emotions travel through this one action. He hopes Zayn can feel just how much Niall is trying to emote through this kiss, and he must, by the way he holds onto Niall, by the way he pulls him closer, even when there’s no more room between them; by the way his tears gather around his eyes as he cries--from what, Niall doesn’t know, if it’s from exhaustion or joy or as an apology for not being there before. But Niall kisses Zayn through it, kisses him till all he can taste is Zayn, till all he can _feel_ is Zayn, till the two of them fall asleep together, limbs entwined, foreheads pressed together, fingers interlocked, hearts synced.

 


	7. Finale

\------

 

“I’m so fucking nervous,” Liam admits, wiping his palms on his jeans. “How did you even set this up?”

Niall shrugs and smirks, looking around at the large, clean lobby of the Syco building. It’s been another couple of weeks since the incident at the pub, since they all needed a little bit of time to recover from what had happened, but he’s finally here with the other four boys, outfitted in what he thinks is something Caroline would be proud of, he hopes, voices trained to perfection, ready to sing for Simon.

“I just called the receptionist and made an appointment. And told her it’s to discuss Simon’s accounts or something. I know some personal details about him, so I was able to answer his security clearance questions.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Not bad, babe,” he says, placing a hand on Niall’s waist. “This is _so_ tight,” Louis whines, plucking at his jeans. They’re really jeggings, to be honest, but Niall had squeezed Louis into them hours before, determined to replicate the style they’ve had over the past few years. He also gave them all haircuts, trimming Harry’s hair, quiffing Louis’ up, and buzzing the sides of Liam’s head so that he had that Beckham look that everyone had gone crazy over not too long ago. Liam still can’t stop running his fingers through the freshly shorn hair on the side of his head, and neither can Louis. The two of them smile at each other shyly every once in a while, their relationship still blossoming, but it’s cute, watching them interact during moments when they don’t know anyone else is watching. Which is surprisingly often, actually.

“You sure Simon won’t be mad?” Harry says, playing with the hem of his shirt. “What if he has us thrown out?”

“I know Simon,” Niall reassures them. “He’ll think this is an especially clever way to get a meeting with him. It’s a way to ensure that he remembers us.”

“Horan?” The receptionist calls, and Niall walks over to her. She eyes him warily. “You’re Simon’s...tax...manager?” she says slowly, and Niall nods quickly.

“Yup. They put a young ‘un on the job. You know what they say. We only learn from experience,” he says, giving her a confident smirk. It must work, because she smiles at him and motions for him to go to the elevator.

Niall walks slowly into the lift then holds the door open and lets the other four boys walk into it calmly, hoping the receptionist doesn’t really think of it as very suspicious that one of them is holding two guitar cases. As soon as the doors close, he lets out a relieved sigh.

“Okay, that wasn’t too suspicious,” he says, turning to the other four guys. “Right?”

Harry shrugs. “A small part of me thinks that she knew what we were up to but figured we seemed brilliant enough to let us off the hook.”

“Well, I’ll take it,” Louis says, grinning. “Let’s smash this, lads.”

 

When they get to their floor they walk off, letting Niall lead the pack, which is a really weird experience for him, since he’s usually in the middle of them, not expected to be the frontman. It’s strange but he supposes he understands why they’re naturally falling into this order. They reach Simon’s office door soon and Niall takes a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a voice calls, another familiar one that gets Niall’s heart racing. Niall walks in carefully, sees Simon sitting at the same desk Niall’s seen him at umpteen times before, and feels instantly relieved. Simon watches them come in carefully and smiles when he sees Harry bring up the rear with two guitars in hand.

“I figured this was what it was,” Simon says, leaning forward and putting his chin on his hand. “But very clever, boys. How did you know all that personal info about me? Am I really that easily googlable?” Simon asks, turning to Niall. Niall blushes.

“It’s a long story,” he says, clearing his throat. “But we’d like to play for you before I tell it, maybe?”

Simon hums contemplatively, then gives the five of them a good, solid once-over. “I suppose,” he decides, leaning back in his chair. “You have two minutes to impress me.”

“That’s all we need,” Niall ensures him, taking his case from Harry and pulling out his guitar while Harry gets his own ready. They’re already tuned and warmed up, ready to go at the drop of a hat, and Niall’s so glad they made sure of this before they showed up here.

“This song is called Once In A Lifetime,” Niall starts, heart thudding as he plays the opening chords. He’d picked this song for them to perform because it’s a damn good acoustic performance, especially with two guitarists, and because Liam and Harry would be the first two singers, their voices strong and trained, before the rest of them could come in with some intense harmonies that Niall honestly believes are their best to date. Plus, the underlying irony of the meaning of the song in this situation helps too, Niall thinks.

“ _Once in a lifetime, it’s just right, we make no mistakes_ ,” Liam sings, perfectly on pitch. Niall’s heart literally skips a beat and he feels Zayn’s hand brush over the small of his back comfortingly. “ _Not even a landslide or riptide could take it all away_.”

“ _Somehow, it feels like nothing has changed_ ,” Harry croons, his voice raspy. “ _Right now, my heart is beating the same out loud, someone’s calling my name_ ,” he turns to Niall and smiles, “ _it sounds like you_.”

When the five of them sing the next few notes, getting into the chorus, Niall swears the world stops, nothing existing but the five of them and a couple guitars, their voices echoing beautifully off the walls of Simon’s office as Niall and Harry strum along. Niall’s pulse moves to the undulation of their voices, Liam’s strong melodic control and Louis’ high but solid medial tone.

They keep playing for the whole song, and Niall’s not even surprised that Simon doesn’t stop them, because he knows they sound _damn_ good. When Liam finishes the last line of the song, Niall and Harry play the last chord in unison, the notes blending together and fading off in perfect unison. The room is completely silent for at least a whole minute, Niall afraid to look anywhere but the backs of his own eyelids.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Simon says, and Niall laughs before he opens his eyes, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“Fuck,” he whispers, mostly to himself, but feels Zayn cling to the back of his shirt in excitement. Niall clears his throat and finally manages to look up at Simon. “So,” he starts, but Simon is shaking his head, amazed.

“I’m not sure I need the story after that performance,” Simon says, motioning for them to sit down, “but I’d still like to hear it, if it’s okay with you?”

“Right,” Niall says, and takes the seat directly across from Simon. The other boys arrange themselves around him, Zayn never more than an arm’s length away. Harry is to the right of Zayn, and Louis and Liam are on Niall’s other side. It’s like everyone’s breath is held expectantly, no one wanting to break the silence of the spell before Niall.

“So, picture this,” Niall says, crossing his legs. “Five young boys enter the XFactor competition as solo artists. None of them make it through by themselves, but they’re put together into a rag-tag boyband and asked to continue in the competition as such. They agree, and they bond and practice and call themselves One Direction.” Niall smiles at Simon. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

 

\------

 

It’s quiet in the hallway that Niall’s sat in, his head leaning back against the dark grey wall. He can’t hear any noise here, which is good because it’s so echo-y that even if anyone stepped inside it, he’d be able to tell. It’s a bit stressful being here, his head muddled up with all these emotions, but he hopes he can get past it, since there really isn’t any time for him to be caught up in his own head anymore.

“Niall?” a voice calls, from around the corner, and Niall can’t bring himself to get up or run away because it’s a voice he’ll never flee from, one that he instead finds himself running towards every time. “Babe, you out here?”

Niall grunts in reply and Zayn rounds the corner, breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees him.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, we’re--” Zayn starts, then slows down and stops smiling as he catches Niall’s demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

Niall shrugs, but he knows exactly what’s wrong, he’s just too panicked right now to really open his mouth--plus he thinks that if he does, he’ll projectile vomit all over Zayn. Zayn kneels down, though, understanding a hand on each of Niall’s shoulders.

“You good? I know it’s a bit nerve-wracking, but…”

Nerve-wracking doesn’t even come _close_ to describing it. After signing their contract, the rest had been a whirlwind of approving this and declaring that, photoshoots and makeovers and song decisions, writing sessions and album designs and so much that Niall hardly felt like he had time to just be himself anymore, unless he was in bed with Zayn wrapped around him like a security blanket. It’s been several months since then and they already have an album out, what with Niall basically having pre-written tracks ready for them to use, and they’ve already got a gig in one of the most famous locations in London. It’s fucking ridiculous.

“Hey,” Zayn whispers, leaning in close so their noses brush, “you’ll do great. _We’ll_ do great. We’re going to smash it and show the world what we can do. What _you_ helped us do. We owe it all to you, Niall. You literally made our dreams come true.”

He leans closer, asking for permission, and Niall gives it to him, tipping his own chin up and letting Zayn press their lips together. He waits a moment before sighing into the kiss and opening his mouth, Zayn tilting his head and _really_ kissing Niall thoroughly, sliding their tongues together and making Niall’s anxiety dissipate. By the time they’ve broken apart, Niall feels rebirthed, practically, his eyes shining with comfort.

“Better?” Zayn asks, and Niall nods eagerly. He clears his throat.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, and Zayn smiles.

“My pleasure. I’m always there if you need it, Ni,” Zayn adds, standing up and holding out a hand for Niall to take. “Now c’mon. The boys are waiting in our dressing room.”

Niall nods, taking Zayn’s hand and letting the other boy pull him up. They walk slowly to the dressing room, fingers interlocked, and Zayn lets Niall open the door when he’s ready, not rushing any process of it at all. _God_ , Niall’s completely in love with this boy.

“Niall!” Harry cheers, when they walk in, and Niall smiles at his enthusiasm. “You ready to go? Fuck, I’m pumped. I can’t stop jumping around, I’m _so_ fucking ready for this.”

Harry’s been a force to be reckoned with, taking so much more creative and musical control than Niall was used to, but it’s refreshing, watching Harry pluck along on guitar with fingers just as nimble and educated as Niall’s.

Niall looks over to where Liam and Louis are sat, the latter in the former’s lap, combing his fingers through the other boy’s hair. Niall’s not sure when the two became as serious as him and Zayn but he’s happy they finally got to this point. They’re opposites but they still fit together, Liam’s serious, managerial side balancing out Louis’ wild, rule-breaking one. They have the same professional dynamic as before, churning out song after song after song when they put their heads together, only now they're interrupted by small kisses and long cuddles, oftentimes. Louis currently has his forehead pressed against Liam’s, whispering something that’s making Liam smile more and more by the second till his grin looks like it might explode off his face. He bites his lip and nods, whispering something back to Louis, and Niall watches them kiss passionately right afterwards, the fucking lovebirds.

“Good news, everybody,” Louis announces, finally breaking apart from a now happily-flushed Liam, “Liam and I are in love.”

“Thanks, captain bloody obvious,” Zayn says, saluting the two of them. “It’s about fucking time.”

Louis scowls. “Hey, it was _cute_.”

“Yeah, and expected,” Harry adds. “I’ve had to sit through hours of you two shagging in the room next to mine, I half expected you two to be married by now.”

“Maybe later,” Liam quips, and Louis looks down at him, proud.

“That’s my boy,” he says, and Liam smirks.

Someone knocks at the door. “Need you on stage in two, boys.”

“Now or never,” Harry squeals, opening the door and leading the way out. Louis follows him with Liam right behind, then Niall, then Zayn. The once-muted screams get louder and louder as they get closer and closer to the stage entrance, and Niall can already feel his heart thrumming with excitement, the desire to finally start performing again buzzing through his bones.

“You ready for this?” Zayn asks, quietly, and Niall nods, squeezing his hand before slinging his guitar over his shoulder and taking his place behind the screen. The lights in the auditorium turn off and the screams multiply tenfold, the boys waiting for Niall to speak. He’d tried not to take this from any of them but they’d all insisted that he be the one to introduce them, given his role in getting them all back together.

“How’re you doing tonight, London?” Niall asks, as the screen splits open down the middle, and a surge of flashes greet them, like twinkling stars in the night sky. He’s beaming from ear to ear and he knows the rest of the boys are too. He’s finally back where he belongs, with whom he belongs with, and he can’t believe it. He did it, he actually got them all back together, on stage, performing at the O2 Arena like they have so many times before--though this is the first time for the rest of the guys, of course, and they're all giddy with excitement. Niall laughs and waves at the crowd, walking forward and taking his first spot on stage, smiling at the sea of fans, all screaming out loud for _them_ , for their music and their voices and their hearts. He plays a chord, the opening chord of the first song of the night, and the screams get louder, if that's even possible. Niall bites his lip and looks around at the four boys around him, strangers not too long ago who'd put so much faith in this dream, in _him_ , and were now--again--no less than his brothers, his closest friends in the world, all looking at him expectantly, identical grins on all their faces.

“We are One Direction.”

\------

**Author's Note:**

> HUEHUEHUEHE...I HOPE NONE OF YOU DIED FROM THE IMMENSE CHEESINESS
> 
> Tumblr post [here](http://slashter.tumblr.com/post/113896496395/not-forgetting-who-i-wasrating-explicit-main)!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://slashter.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/slashter_fic)!


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